


By the Moon

by AnotherFacelessAuthor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marauders - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Completed, Eventual Happy Ending, Families of Choice, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Happy Ending, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Pining, Requited Love, Slow Burn, The Marauder's Map, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28564530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherFacelessAuthor/pseuds/AnotherFacelessAuthor
Summary: An extensive, cannon adjacent (ish) retelling of the Marauders seven years at Hogwarts and a bit beyond. Takes us from the four first meeting on the train, to the discovery for Remus’ condition, through The Prank and aftermath, and a slow burn romance for Wolfstar with about as much angst and miscommunication as you could expect from the gay son of bloodpurist assholes and the queer werewolf who doesn’t believe himself capable of being truly loved. Various Jily interludes as well, of course.1971-1979Please do not copy to put on wattpad or other, similar sites.See notes for the minor canon diversions.
Relationships: James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, wolfstar - Relationship
Comments: 152
Kudos: 289





	1. September and October, 1971

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost: Fuck JKR. Transphobia is bs and queer-phobia of any kind will not be permitted on this page.
> 
> Secondly, diversion from canon in that the prank occurs late third year, to be honest, I didn’t realize it had a canon date until I’d written well past it and it better fit the story I am telling. 
> 
> Also, for some reason I thought Regulus was two years younger than Sirius and it was only after I’d written the whole damn thing that I realized so. Whoops.
> 
> I swear to god I did so much research for this and yet somehow…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauder's first time meeting on the Hogwarts Express and their early adventures during the first month of school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi and welcome :) i'm very excited about this one. i'll be putting any significant content warnings here for each chapter, with any additional notes i think are necessary.
> 
> cw: alludes to child abuse/violent family situations

## Year 1

### September, 1971

When Sirius Black walked on to the Hogwarts Express, back stiff, clothes pressed to smooth perfection, short hair forcefully combed into what even he could admit was an obnoxious style, he desperately hoped the discomfort wasn’t too visible on his face, though he doubted it could be, after eleven years of practice. He tried not to watch as mothers with bitter-sweet smiles bent down to kiss their sons and daughters on the cheek, fathers gave final hugs while not-so-subtly holding back tears, and younger siblings shouted their goodbyes.

His own family had allowed him a curt and lukewarm farewell from outside Kings Cross station before apparating away once again. The Blacks didn’t bother with disgraceful matters such as dirty muggle train stations and bustling platforms, even if it did mean sending their eldest son off to the Hogwarts Express alone. If Regulus had tried to shout after him, it would have earned him a very stern… talking to, so Sirius didn’t blame him for the silence. Still, every solitary, echoing footstep of his felt like a dull knife was being dug deeper into his chest. It wasn’t a sensation he was unfamiliar with.

Sirius carefully strolled up and down the aisles of the train in search of an empty compartment. His father had given him strict and specific instructions on how to achieve success at Hogwarts, and it all began on the train.

It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to follow his father’s orders, in fact, a large part of him had always wondered what would happen if he didn’t. But besides a few (mostly) harmless pranks at home, he’d never really had the chance to find out.

He had been distracted, mentally running through _step 3: find suitable (Slytherin) acquaintances prior to sorting_ , when a compartment door opened right in front of him and he promptly ran into the person who had been inside.

“Oi, watch where you’re fuckin’ going—” the boy said crudely, massaging his right shoulder and wincing.

Sirius was rapidly deciding whether to apologize or demand an apology when he took in the full figure in front of him. The sight was exhilarating.

They must have been the same age, for he was a bit small and slender, but this was not what was most peculiar about the boy. He was covered almost head to toe in scars—encircling his wrists like bangles and disappearing in the bunched up arms of his slightly-too-large sweater, peeking out of his socks and under the cuffs of his jeans. He was wearing jeans. Muggle fashion.

Sirius had no scars. Well, no normal scars, like the kind you got from tripping on the pavement one too many times, or falling out of a tree, or petting a not-so-friendly stray cat. The Black family did not run on pavement, nor at all if they could help it. They did not permit their young sons to climb trees, or play sports, or act in any sort of fashion that would result in a gruesome scar, like the one stretching down the cheek of the freckled boy in the sage green sweater. Sirius could only imagine there were more, letting his mind wander to what might be hiding under the curls which fell in front of his forehead, beneath the sweater, spiralling constellations over his back, on his knees—all over.

His parents would hate this boy, just from one look alone.

“Uh, hello?” The scarred kid asked, snapping Sirius out of his momentary trance.

It was a split second decision—as many eleven year old boys’ decisions are—to throw caution into the wind and stray from the stuffy life he had grown up loathing, recklessly abandon the steps to be a good and proper Black and seek something new, something adventurous. He had always wanted to, and here was his chance, in the form of a gangly young boy with the mouth of a sailor. A broad grin spread across Sirius’ face, and without a word he walked into the other boy’s compartment and promptly took a seat.

It took a moment for the curly haired boy to re-enter and sit across from Sirius, evidently forgetting whatever it had been that had inspired him to open the doors in the first place.

“Hi, I’m Remus Lupin.” Remus offered Sirius a shy smile that very much contrasted the quite aggressive and foul language he had just uttered. He tugged on the ends of his sweater, and his scarred hands disappeared into his sleeves. Sirius almost missed the sight.

“I know, I read on your luggage.”

“Right.” Remus’ cheeks tinged pink underneath a mass of freckles.

“Sirius Black.” He extended a hand formally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, but pulled back the arm of his sleeve to shake his hand.

“Those are wicked by the way.” Sirius gestured at the still-healing cuts by Remus’ jawbone. The only response was a sheepish smile, so Sirius pressed further, “How’d you get ‘em? I bet you’ve got loads of wild stories—”

But, to Remus’ relief, he was cut off by a plump, young, blond boy knocking on the door. Peter Pettigrew slid open the doors and stuck his head in the compartment. “I’m sorry, but do you think we could sit here? Everywhere else is full—”

Another boy, taller, more confident if his walk showed anything, with messy dark hair, strode through the doors, pulling his companion in behind him.

“James Potter—and this is Peter.”

“Hi,” the smaller boy squeaked.

“Bit rude of you to just barge in, isn’t it?” Sirius asked before he could stop himself. For a moment, he wondered if he would even be able to untrain all he had learned at home, or at least enough to make, and keep, some decent friends.

James didn’t seem too bothered though—it was not the first time he’d been accused of some well-meant rudeness. With a bump to Sirius’ shoulder with his own, he said, “What’s got you all prim and proper? You know we’re headed to Hogwarts, you don’t have to be mummy’s good little boy all the time anymore.” Then he laughed, and it was simply contagious.

Another terrible influence. Sirius couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face if he’d tried.

“It’s a pity your jumper’s green,” James noted obnoxiously, nodding at the scarred boy and snapping Sirius back to reality.

Remus furrowed his brow, “Why’s that? My mum says it brings out my eyes,” he added defensively.

“It does,” Sirius agreed before he thought about what he was saying. He gave the slim boy a supportive smile, which grew broader when Remus returned it.

James just rolled his eyes, “ _Because_ ,” he began, as if what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world, “the green house at Hogwarts is Slytherin, and that’s the bad one, ya know?”

Sirius bristled, a sinking feeling dawning in his stomach. He knew.

Remus seemed to pick up on the shift in Sirius’ behavior. “Don’t be daft, there’s no _bad house_.” He swung his legs up onto the table, “and besides, maybe I’m an evil genius who’s off to wreak havoc at Hogwarts. A little chaos never hurt anybody.”

“Now that’s something I can get behind,” James agreed. They dropped the subject of sorting in favor of tall tales of James and Peter’s reputation back home as notorious bad boys, and thoughts of Hogwarts Houses promptly flew out of Sirius’ mind.

And so it was, the four boys in one compartment, swapping stories of accidental magic and mundane pranks, eating their weight in candy from the trolly.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Sirius felt completely and totally free. He could laugh at James’ crude jokes and Peter’s face when he ate a rotten egg Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean. He didn’t have to pretend he couldn’t hear when Remus uttered the foulest words and explained their meanings. Hell, he could even try out the cusses without worrying his mother was right behind him with a strict expression, wand in hand.

By the time they arrived at Hogwarts, all thoughts of his family and their impossibly high standards for him had dropped out of his mind. That is, until the Sorting Hat was presented in front of them and all their talk about houses came back to him. His face fell.

Sirius had spent a precious few hours with three of the funniest, most genuine—and genuinely terrible (in the best way possible)—people he had ever met, but it was time for all of that to stop, to reassume the persona he had worn for years. It was inevitable. All good things must come to an end. All things wonderful and exhilarating.

He straightened, fixing a perfectly neutral expression on his face as his thoughts tumbled about in the mess of his mind.

James would be in Gryffindor—that was obvious. Everything from his brash demeanor to his maroon t-shirt pointed to that fact.

Peter seemed like a Hufflepuff—a bit more quiet and self-contained, but exceedingly kind and loyal, if you could count hanging on to every single one of James’ words like it was scripture as loyalty.

Remus was a clear Ravenclaw—intelligent and curious. He told the boys he had already read _Hogwarts: A History_ twice, just in case. Peter hadn’t even known _Hogwarts: A History_ existed before Remus mentioned it.

And Sirius. Well, if his bloodline had anything to say for it, he would be in Slytherin. Every single member of his family had been, going back generations, as long as records had been kept. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the four boys would be splitting up, only to ever become passing “hello”s in the corridors and faint, fading memories of a single train ride.

So one could imagine how incredulous he looked when “Black, Sirius” was called and the Sorting Hat shouted “Gryffindor!” before it even touched his head.

Cheers erupted from the red and gold table, consuming all his senses. He didn’t dare look at his cousins at the Slytherin table. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, in time with the quick footsteps that led him towards the other Gryffindor first-years.

Sirius’s surprise only grew, as “Lupin, Remus,” “Pettigrew, Peter,” and “Potter, James” all hurried to join him at the long table, far far away from the sea of green.

James held his hands up for high fives all around the table, “I knew it!”

“Mr. Potter, if you could _please_ quiet down so we can finish the Sorting,” the stern voice of Professor McGonagall sounded over the crowd of first years.

“Sorry professor!” James shouted back. He then leaned in and whispered to his friends, “Did you see that Evans girl? I think her name’s Lily…”

This was bad. Really bad. The train ride, the new friends, the thought of changing the course of his life—those had all seemed like mere fantasies, daydreams to escape the dark and decrepit hell hole that was his family's history. But Sirius was in Gryffindor now. For real. And the Black family would not like that one bit.

***

It was the first day after the Sorting Ceremony, Sirius had been on edge all morning. He’d been placed in a dormitory with his three new friends, which should have made him excited, but really just shoved his rebellion in his face a little more. What would his parents do? What would they say? His insides tightened with worry.

That was, until something distracted him, even for the tiniest of moments.

“Your tie is crooked.” He noted passively, nodding in Remus’ direction.

Remus groaned in annoyance, “Damnit, I didn’t think anyone would be able to notice.” He turned back toward the mirror and tried to fix it again, fumbling around with the fabric. The others had already left for breakfast, too hungry to wait for their friends.

Sirius watched for a moment, “You’ve never tied a tie before.” It wasn’t a question, simply a bit of a shocked observation.

“I’m not in the habit of wearing them often, are you?” Remus grumbled, still wrestling with the tie around his neck.

Sirius didn’t respond. He was, in fact. It was one of the first things he’d learned to do on his own, along with tying his shoelaces and reciting the names of the ‘proper’ wizarding families. But instead of explaining this, and therefore bringing up the topic he least wanted to discuss, he stood and crossed the room, meeting Remus by the mirror.

Placing his hands on Remus’ shoulders, he twisted the boy around to face him. His hands silenced Remus’, and swiftly took over the process. Within a matter of seconds, a perfect knot laid neatly around Remus’ neck. With one final adjustment, Sirius stepped back.

“There.” He said, looking Remus up and down. He found a stray thread, looped it around his finger once and tugged.

Remus hesitated, “Thanks.”

The pair headed down to breakfast without another word.

***

Mr. and Mrs. Black didn’t send a howler when their eldest son was placed in the house that they, by all standards, considered to be the lowest of the low, the weakest link—the enemy. No, howlers were not the Black’s style. No need to have the whole school aware of the family turmoil, the shame, any more than they already did. Instead, it was radio silence. And somehow, in a way, that was worse.

By the end of their first week, Sirius sat at the breakfast table, surrounded by James, who was quite loudly and obnoxiously opening a congratulatory gift from his parents—a heavy, colorful book of _Great Gryffindor Quidditch Players of the Ages_ —and boasting about how he was sure to make the team next year, and Peter who was opening endless letters from his extended family wishing him well. Even Remus had been sent a modest box of chocolates with red and gold wrappings from his parents.

Nobody asked why Sirius never got any mail. He suspected James and Peter just hadn’t noticed—too busy digging through their own pile of letters to keep track of anyone else’s. Remus seemed too clever to have missed it, but with his brilliance he’d probably also connected the long line of Slytherins with the Black name, and figured it would be best not to mention it. He did offer Sirius one of his chocolates, which was kind.

Sirius tried to hide his disappointment when the owls came swooping in the Great Hall every morning. He hadn’t expected much from his parents—maybe a very curt letter at the very most—but he had hoped at least Regulus, his younger brother, would have something good to say about his sorting. After the second week, Sirius gave up looking.

The other boys’ mail eventually slowed down, and he could pretend it never happened at all. After all, a year without contact to his parents—wasn’t this what he had always been silently begging for?

***

One of the first things Sirius did on their first free day from school was climb a tree. They’d escaped the castle, the sky was light and the sun was warm on their cheeks, still early enough in the autumn season to be outside without a jacket. He stood at the top of a long hill which stretched from the castle down to the Great Lake and the edge of the Forbidden Forest, breathing in the crisp air as though they were his first ever full breaths.

When his friends had gathered around him, Sirius challenged, “Race you down the hill!” He didn’t stop to let them process his words. No, Sirius took off running, shouting, “Last one to the forest has to kiss the Giant Squid!”

Remus, James, and Peter tore after him. It was exhilarating, the breeze blowing through his hair, legs flying beneath him, friends swiftly catching up behind him.

With every step, he felt like a rebel on the run from the law. The sensation burned bright in his stomach. With every step, he felt less of a Black.

The Blacks didn’t climb trees. They didn’t race down hills and risk grass stains on a new white button up. They didn’t hang upside-down and let their shirts untuck from their pants and expose their stomachs to the world. They certainly didn’t let all the blood rush to their heads as they laughed, open and freely.

So that’s exactly what he did. He reached the forest first, grabbing a strong looking branch and twisting himself upside-down, swinging by his knees. From the warped viewpoint, he saw James sprinting toward him, then Remus right behind him. Peter followed a few moments later. And Sirius smiled. He didn’t have to be a Black, not with them.

***

### October, 1971

 _Creaking floorboards, the ones by the door. Remus sat up in his bed, heartbeat pounding heavily. He was too small, his young eyes not yet familiar with the intense darkness that lay thick over his room. They didn’t have time to adjust. He blinked. A figure was lunging at him_ _—_

_Every inch of his body was in pain. Someone was screaming, and it was a bit before he realized the harrowing cries were escaping from his mouth. The hall light flicked on, but too late._

_Too late._

Remus awoke suddenly in his four poster bed, panting slightly and covered in a thin layer of sweat. For a moment, he forgot where he was, looking around frantically. The almost-full moon shed light into the dormitory, but he didn’t need it, wolfish eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness. When his pulse settled a bit, he listened intently.

Two resting heart rates, one just a touch faster, someone else who’d just woken up—

“Sirius?” Remus whispered into the night.

A head peeked out from behind the curtains beside him. Sirius smiled sheepishly, glancing around as if he couldn’t completely pin where the voice had come from. Remus felt better knowing the other boy couldn’t see him. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah, nightmare.”

Remus exhaled, “Me too.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Alright.” But Sirius didn’t get back into bed. Instead, he slipped out and headed toward the window between their two beds. He was about to trip over a stack of textbooks Remus had next to his bed when Remus lunged to stop him, wrapping a hand around Sirius’ slender wrist.

Sirius looked down, finally noticing the books. “Thanks,” he whispered. “I didn’t even see those.”

Remus swallowed. “Just got good eyes for the dark, I guess.”

“Wanna join me?” He gestured to the nook under the window, perfectly hidden from the other two beds, where James and Peter were still sound asleep. Remus couldn’t imagine himself sleeping any time soon; his pulse was still uneven, so he climbed up.

It was a small space, but the two boys were young and small themselves, so they fit nicely. “This is where I come when I can’t sleep.”

Remus noticed, but didn’t dig further into the implication that Sirius often couldn’t sleep. “It’s nice,” was all he could muster. They didn’t speak much after that, but watched the sun rise over the mountains in the distance. It wasn’t until the sound of rustling sheets filled the room, indicating James Potter waking up, that either boy moved from their spot by the window. They slipped down without a word, exchanged a final glance, a silent pact, and went their separate ways.

***


	2. December, 1971 and February, 1972

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius enjoy their first Christmas break together at Hogwarts, while Remus grapples with the impending full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: depiction of an anxiety attack. please remember that one person's experience with this matter is not universal and may differ from your, or someone you know's experience.

### December, 1971

The first few transformations of the school year had gone relatively well in Remus’ book. That wasn’t saying very much, as the bar was on the floor when compared to the ordeal he dealt with at home, but he had managed to come up with some half convincing reasons for why he wouldn’t be sleeping in their dorm that night—visiting his sick mother, coming down with a bad cold, going home to see relatives that rarely ever left the states—and hadn’t added too many more scars to the already countless tally that was his wrecked body.

Every time he came back to the room, palms and fingers bandaged up as if he’d been in a fist fight, a slight limp forming, Remus worried one of the boys would finally catch on—leaving like clockwork, the scars, the after-lessons talks he had with Professor McGonagall—but so far he seemed in the clear. When they asked about his injuries, old and new, he stumbled his way through a story about a stray dog and climbing a chain link fence or getting knocked down in football—to which James replied, “What’s football?” and Remus thankfully pivoted the conversation.

He had even managed to do pretty well in his classes, finding that reading his books and completing his homework (and then helping James, Sirius, and Peter with theirs) was a fairly decent way to settle his mind when it was buzzing about the next full moon. It was nice to get ahead, as he slept the whole next morning through. Remus hadn’t really noticed, but the work had also kept his mind clearer in the nights leading up to the full moon. Usually his thoughts accelerated in the days prior, sometimes bad enough to lead to a full blown anxiety attack. That hadn’t happened yet.

But Remus had already finished all of his and his friends’ homework for the next few days, and thoughts of the next transformation were spiraling around in his mind. He just knew this next one would be the one that blew it all, the one when his friends finally put two and two together, the one where he wasn’t locked in correctly and managed to escape and the whole school found out what he was. The one where he hurt someone else.

All of the others had gone smoothly, almost too smoothly. A staff member, typically Madame Pomfrey as she was brought in specifically for this purpose, would escort him from outside the common room to an abandoned house on the outskirts of Hogsmead with boarded up doors and windows, and there he would spend the long, excruciating night. When he woke up, he’d be in the hospital wing, new scars already forming, being bandaged and tended to by Madame Pomfrey. She would hand him a sleeping draught, and back into the darkness of a dreamless sleep he went.

It came like clockwork. But this time would be different. The full moon landed on December 31st, New Year’s Eve. Over break.

Remus didn’t want to go home. Well, he wanted to see his parents, but he knew this would be the worst time to do so. They tried not to show it, but Remus’ transformation terrified them to their cores. It was an ill-kept secret that his father had hunted werewolves before Remus was turned. And back home he’d be chained down in the lightless basement again. The abandoned house wasn’t luxury, but at least he had space—and some furniture to chew and claw at when the wolf got tired of tearing at its own skin.

So, when Remus wrote to his parents that he’d be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, he tried not to be disappointed when their relief was so evident in their reply. He knew they only meant the best for him. But it still hurt.

Sirius nudged him. “You okay? You haven’t eaten your breakfast.” He gestured to the untouched meal in front of Remus.

Before the other boy could read the letter over his shoulder, Remus folded it back up and tucked it in his pocket. “Yeah, just not that hungry.” It wasn’t totally a lie.

Sirius didn’t seem too convinced, but it was enough to satisfy their other friends. “Could I have your bacon then, Remus?” Peter asked, face stuffed with toast and his own portion of bacon. In their time at Hogwarts he had unfortunately picked up James’ habit of talking with his mouth full.

“Sure.” Remus passed the plate over. When he noticed Sirius still gazing at him suspiciously, he nibbled at a side of toast, but didn’t feel up to trying anything else on his plate.

James and Peter would be leaving that evening, heading back home for the Christmas holiday. Sirius was staying; when asked about why he wasn’t joining his family, he just grumbled, “Don’t wanna,” and that was the end of that conversation.

Remus was happy for the company, though it would make sneaking off on New Year’s Eve a bit more tricky. At least he had someone to help take his mind off of it for the time being.

The corridors emptied pretty quickly after lunch. It was a beautiful sunny day, if a bit cold, and students were either finishing up the last of their packing or sitting out on the green, taking in the last sights of Hogwarts until after the holiday.

Remus sat with the other boys in their dormitory, desperately trying to sort out James’ clothes that had somehow made their way into every spot around the room—under Peter’s bed, in Sirius’ trunk, and even tucked between Remus’ sweaters in the drawers.

“Oi, James!” Sirius threw a pile of crumpled shirts across the room.

“Thanks mate.” James straightened up. “I think that’s the last of it.” There was a small pause—they hadn’t done goodbyes yet—no one knew what to say.

“I guess we’ll be off then,” James said, cutting through the silence. He wrapped an arm lazily around Peter’s shoulders, “Ready to go?”

With a nod, James and Peter made their way out of the dormitory. Just before the door closed, James shouted, “Don’t get into too much trouble without me! Save the best prank ideas for when we’re all together.”

And then it was just the two of them.

Sirius swung his legs over his bed, turning away from the door. “Well then, what d’ya wanna do, Remus?”

“Dunno.” Remus shrugged, glancing out the window. “Looks like a nice day?”

With that, Sirius bounded to his feet. “What a wonderful idea!”

It was a terrible idea.

Despite sunny appearances, the grounds were still freezing, and the wind had picked up. Despite his sweater, jacket, and scarf, Remus felt his cheeks flush and his rose redden from the cold almost instantly. Sirius didn’t seem to mind nearly as much, though. In fact, one would almost think he’d never seen snow before by the way he acted.

“Do you think we could make a snowman?”

Remus surveyed the frost covered grounds, much of which still had grass exposed. If he was being honest, he doubted they’d even be able to make proper snowballs, but one look at Sirius’ face, elated and goofy, and he replied, “Yeah, I suppose we could give it a try.”

So they spent the next hour compiling all the snow they could possibly find into one small, unimpressive snowman. It stood, wonky smile gazing at them from underneath a tree between the hill and the lake. Despite the cold, it was good fun, and the world felt a bit warmer every time Sirius laughed—at the lopsided head, the tiny twig arms, the stone eyes that kept falling out no matter how many times the two boys pushed them in. When finally their creation was nearing the final touches, Sirius and Remus stood back to survey their work.

“It’s missing something.” In a flash, Sirius was twirling his companion around, uncurling the maroon scarf from around his neck. “Aha!” He shouted, draping the knitted fabric around their snow creature. “Now that’s perfe—”

“Not yet.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And how do you suggest we improve the Most Amazing Snowman Ever Made?”

Remus couldn’t contain his wicked grin as he replied, “Professor Dumbledore’s hat.”

***

The next few days were filled with similar adventures, resulting in many a desperate sprint down the corridors to avoid angry teachers. For the most part, Remus came up with the plans. Sirius was more than happy to go along with even the wildest of them—and proved his worth in the duo when he revealed that he had nicked James’ invisibility cloak before the other boys had left. It hadn’t been too difficult, James had handed it to him to pack, and he’d just tucked it under his covers instead, but Sirius couldn’t admit that, not while Remus was looking at him like he was a genius.

The excitement continued until they found themselves, exhausted and still breathing heavily from a near escape out of Slughorn’s office where they’d enchanted all the student portraits to stick on the ceiling, collapsed on Remus’ bed. Laying sideways, his legs dangling off the edge, Remus let out a hearty laugh. “I think that’s enough chaos for tonight, don’t you?”

“That’s where you’re wrong mate, there’s no such thing.” Sirius chuckled. “But yeah, I’m wiped for now.” He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, pulling it out of his eyes, where it promptly plopped back moments later.

Remus sat up, pulling his knees into his chest and leaning against the headboard. “It’s gotten a lot longer. Your hair, I mean,” he clarified, when Sirius gave him a puzzled expression. “Not that short, slicked back look you wore on the train that first day.”

“I think my mum would go in a rage if she saw my hair like this. She’d be all,” he put on a terrible high pitched accent, “ _Disgracing the Black family name with your unkempt appearance!_ ”

“You really think so?”

Sirius didn’t meet his eyes, “I know so.”

Lying back down, Remus spoke. “I think it looks better this way. More you.”

Now it was Sirius’ turn. “You really think so?”

Remus gave him a small smile, “Yeah. I do.”

“Cool.”

There was a long pause, their breathing the only noise in the room. With a hesitant cough, Sirius sat up and crossed his legs beneath him. “Uh, Remus?” He didn’t speak for a minute.

“You okay?”

The shaggy haired boy scratched his neck. “This might be weird…” He faded out nervously. Remus tried to give him his best ‘you can say anything, I won’t judge’ face.

“D’you think I could try your jeans?”

Remus doubled over with a burst of laughter, placing a hand over his heart. “That’s it? I thought you were gonna confess to murder or something, holy shit.” He stood up and began digging through his wardrobe.

When he found a pair, he threw them over onto the bed, “Here, these are still a bit big for me anyway.” They were second hand, as nearly everything he owned was, and were growing thin around the knees and in the back pocket where he’d been sticking his wand when he wasn’t wearing his robes. 

Sirius didn’t seem to care. His face lit up as he grabbed the jeans and rushed to the otherside of the room to change.

Remus called over, “Why didn’t you ask before now? You must’ve known I wouldn’t’ve cared all that much.”

Sirius struggled with the zipper a bit, but replied over his shoulder, “Thought James would give me shit for it—his family’s pureblood but not crazy, psycho, can’t-wear-muggle-clothes-‘cause-they’re-below-us pureblood.” He turned around, a broad, Sirius Black smile spreading across his face. “Ta da! How do I look?”

He looked absolutely ridiculous. The fit was all off—too tight in some areas, too loose in others, too short on the bottom—but the look on his face was priceless.

He strutted over to the mirror, striking poses on his way like a runway model.

“Magnificent.”

***

When Christmas came to the nearly empty castle, Remus was the very first to wake up. He leapt out of bed with surprising agility and bounded over to Sirius’ bed. “Merry Christmas!”

Sirius wiped the sleep out of his eyes, “What time is it?” he yawned.

“Christmas time! C’mon, c’mon!” Remus’s scarred hand took Sirius’ and dragged him up out of bed. Together, they bounded toward the tree in the common room. A few piles of presents lay beneath, and immediately the boys got to finding their own and ripping open the wrapping paper.

Sirius shouted in delight when opening Peter’s gift, _50 Magical Pranks and How To Never Be Caught_. Showing off the brightly colored cover to Remus, he exclaimed, “We gotta try out some of these tonight.” James had gotten him numerous treats from Zonko’s Joke Shop—dungbombs and sugar quills and plenty of other tricks that would surely make Professor McGonagall’s life as head of Gryffindor House significantly harder over the next few months.

Remus smiled at the homemade chocolate chip cookies (“You’ll be sharing those with me,” said Sirius) and tea mug from James, and the enchanted reading light from Peter, with a note attached saying, “This way you won’t keep the rest of us up with your _studying_ —Peter.”

When the boys had finished opening their presents, neither mentioning the apparent lack of packages from the Blacks, they swapped their own gifts.

“No way!” Sirius leapt to his feet. “How’d you get them so fast?” He held up the pair of blue jeans, already obviously better fitting than the pair he’d stolen off of Remus.

“Wrote to my parents that night, they sent an owl back just in time.” Remus replied through a mouth full of cookies.

“Well go on then. Open mine!” Sirius insisted, still examining his brand new jeans from every possible angle.

The curly haired boy grabbed the soft, lumpy package from under the tree and tore open the paper. Inside was a soft, chunky sweater, a light green color. Immediately, Remus pulled it over his pajamas. It was a bit too big, just the way he liked it. And it was brand new. Almost nothing came new anymore, not when he could be sure to rip it up should it be the unfortunate outfit he wore on the full moon. When he looked down at his hands, engulfed by the warm sleeves, he noticed a small purple flower embroidered by the cuff.

His eyes met Sirius’ with a wide smile on his face.

“So, you like it?”

Remus stood and wrapped the other boy in a giant hug. “It’s perfect.”

The pair bounded down the stairs together to the morning feast.

***

The night before the full moon, the boys found themselves in the common room, Remus draped over an armchair, completely entranced by his latest read, Sirius lying on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through his book of magical pranks, dog-earing any pages that caught his eye. The fire crackled in the metal grates, filling the room with warmth and a faint smoky scent.

Remus’ mind was spinning just a touch less than it usually did this close to a transformation. He didn’t try to reflect on why or how, desperate to let the feeling stay. If he just kept reading, stayed by the fire where it was cozy and safe, maybe things would be alright—

Sirius slammed his book shut. “I just got the most perfect idea.”

So much for cozy and safe.

“What is it?” Remus asked skeptically.

“It’s a surprise, now c’mon!” Sirius grabbed his friend’s hand and pulled him out of his chair, dragging him out the portrait hole and toward a secret passageway they’d stumbled upon only a few days earlier.

And then they were outside the castle. The light of the almost-full moon guided them over the icy grounds. They took off in a run down the hill. Remus breathed a sigh of relief when his partner in crime began leading him away from the Forbidden Forest. No need for that kind of trouble on a night like this one.

But Remus’ stomach dropped when he realized their path was eerily familiar.

“Sirius, I really don’t think—”

“Shhh! Don’t be so loud, someone could hear us. And anyway, since when are you the one to chicken out?” He kept pulling Remus along, a wicked grin on his face, barely looking back, unaware or unable to see through the shadows hiding the look of horror growing on his friend’s face. At last, they stopped at the edge of a chain link fence, gazing down at a decrepit abandoned building. Remus had never seen it from the outside, nor had he ever wanted to.

Sirius spoke in an excited whisper, “I hear it’s haunted. Violent spirits ‘n all. The Shrieking Shack, they’ve started to call it.”

Remus could feel his pulse quickening. His breaths became shallower.

_No, no, no! Not tonight, not right now, not here, not with him!_

The more he protested in his mind, the worse it got. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out all other sound. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to turn away, to run back to the safety of his bed or the armchair beside the fire or anywhere that wasn’t there.

Sirius turned his head to face his friend, smiling like an over-eager golden retriever. “I was thinking we could break in.”

This snapped Remus from his trance. “No. No way,” he said forcefully, taking a step backwards. It was just his luck that there happened to be a tree root for his trainers to snag on, and then Remus Lupin was lying in the dirt, cold and shaking, staring up at an almost full moon, every muscle in his body aching, and he still couldn’t catch his breath.

“Are you alright?” Sirius crouched down, just then noticing the panic seeping into Remus’ bones. He made to give him a hand, then paused, unsure of where to begin or how he could help.

Remus’ breath kept catching in his throat, and hearing the wheezes only made everything worse. Listening to himself suffocating slowly, eyes transfixed by the brilliant moon, shining far too brightly, Remus felt as if he was going to be sick. Soon the tears began to flow. He bunched up his sweater sleeves and balled up his fists over his eyes, desperate to escape, to hide, to get away. Sirius touched a hand to Remus’ shoulder, so light Remus thought he could have imagined it. He peeked an eye out from between his hands, tugging on a curl that was hanging by his temple in the process.

“I’m… gonna—” Sirius faltered, “Uh, do you think you can stand?”

Remus shook his head violently, covering his eyes again. His feet hit the ground and his fingers dug into his skin, picking at the scabs and scars. He had a brief moment of clarity, realizing he looked like a young child throwing a temper tantrum, but he couldn’t help it, nor stop himself. All the anxiety, the energy, the nerves from the coming moon were swelling, overflowing and pouring out of him in uncontrollable waves.

“Whoa, okay. Er… Can I help you sit up?” Remus opened his eyes a second time, lifted onto his elbows, peered down at the building in front of them, and then froze once more. Sirius took a deep breath, then looked back and forth from Remus’ gaze to the Shrieking Shack. Something clicked. “Oh!” he whispered, sliding in front of the building, blocking it completely from the other boy’s view. Sirius 

Remus’ heartbeat was still heavy and loud in his ears, but his breathing slowed, just a touch.

“Hey, look at me.” Sirius said calmly, with a gentle smile. “It’s gonna be okay.” His hand returned to his friend’s shoulder, a gentle, reassuring touch. “It can’t hurt you. I won’t let it.” Remus tried to collect himself, but still felt like his legs were made of jelly. “Hey, Rem,” their eyes met one more, “Take your time. We’ve got it.”

When Remus felt strong enough to stand again, he tugged on Sirius’ sleeve. He seemed to understand the message, pausing with the absentminded circles he had been idly rubbing on Remus’ shoulder with his thumb, slowly, to the time of their breath. Remus had attached himself to Sirius’ breathing, letting his friend set the pace, and desperately following along. Their twin exhales were faintly visible in the darkness, pale clouds in the cold. Wordlessly, Sirius offered his hand, lifting Remus’ arm across his shoulders for support. He put his own arm securely around Remus’ waist.

Remus had never felt so heavy yet weightless in his entire life.

The pair slowly made their way back to the castle. Neither looked back at the old house on the outskirts of Hogsmead.

It took Remus a bit too long to realize, “Sirius, this isn’t the way to Gryffindor tower—”

His friend just shook his head, “Nah, we gotta make sure you’re okay.”

They rounded the corner to the large wooden double doors of the hospital wing. Without knocking, Sirius entered the darkened room.

“Sirius, Madame Pomfrey isn’t gonna be here this late—”

But it was at that moment that a very exhausted Madame Pomfrey came out from behind a corner. “Remus? You’re—not alone.” She surveyed the pair. “Hello, Mr. Black.”

“Hi.” There was an awkward silence.

“So… is there a reason you’re disturbing the hospital at this time of night?”

Sirius perked up, “Oh, right. Uh,” he looked at the boy beside him, suddenly realizing their trip had broken several school rules, and it was likely not in their best interest to divulge if they didn’t have to. He stuttered, “we were going to bed… and Remus… fell. Down the stairs.”

“Down the stairs.” Madame Pomfrey repeated, unconvinced, taking in the dirt covering Remus’ sweater and the flushed appearance of both their cheeks. She decided it would be better not to ask, at least not then and there. “And Mr. Lupin, did you feel something break? A sprain perhaps?” She stepped forward and took Remus from Sirius’ support, guiding him toward a hospital bed. There she began routinely examining his wrists and joints for injury.

Remus blushed and lowered his voice, “No, nothing like that. I, uh… had an anxiety attack. Mild one, I think. It happens,” he coughed, very aware of his friend lurking not too far out of earshot, “around this time.” He looked at her pointedly, silently begging her not to ask the question.

“Around—ah, I see.” She looked up and headed over to the cabinet. “I’ve got just the thing—no don’t get up, you rest.”

Bringing a bottle around to where Remus had laid himself down, Madame Pomfrey offered the drink. When he gave her a questioning look, she sighed, “It’s just a sleeping draft. Same one you’ve been taking. It’ll slow your heart rate and even out your breathing—and most importantly, get you to bed. Dreamless sleep.”

Remus gave her a grateful smile and downed the glass, coughing slightly.

“Now, those can be exhausting—I don’t want to see any funny business tomorrow,” Madame Pomfrey shot a wary eye at Sirius. “Especially with how soon…” she petered out. “Just rest.” She shut the curtain behind him and turned off the light.

“Now, Mr. Black, I must ask you to leave as it is well past when you should have been in bed.”

“What? I can’t stay?” Sirius protested.

“Certainly not. Now—”

“Is he gonna be okay?” His voice faltered.

Madame Pomfrey took in the boy’s desperate expression, so remarkably different from the confident and secure mask he had been putting on before. “He’s going to be just fine.” She paused, wondering how to easily explain anxiety attacks to a twelve year old. “It’s just something that happens to some people when they’re in very stressful or overwhelming situations.”

“Oh, okay then.” Sirius looked a bit more at ease.

“Now, I know better than to ask what you were actually doing, but I know he didn’t just fall down the stairs and it would certainly help to understand—”

“I snuck us out. We were going to break into the Shrieking Shack—but it was all my idea, I swear. He had nothing to do with it.” Sirius confessed immediately.

A pause.

“Ah. Well that does make more sense…” She was talking more to herself than to him.

“He won’t get in trouble, right? It really was all me this time, I swear—” Sirius pleaded.

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Black. It’s time for you to get to bed.”

***

Remus woke up the next morning, dazed and confused, in the hospital wing. He sat up, surveying the damage, and was surprised to find no bandages, no cuts or scrapes, not even any of the usual aches or soreness that always came with the full moon.

Then, the fuzziness in his mind cleared and he remembered that it was, in fact, the day of the full moon, and not the morning after.

He slumped back onto the bed. He had been momentarily so elated by the prospect of an injury free full moon. Too good to be true.

Thanking Madame Pomfrey, with an unexcited “see you tonight,” Remus left the hospital wing, hurrying off to Gryffindor tower. Only then did the full extent of the prior night’s adventures come back to him.

Sirius had seen him having an anxiety attack. Was he going to think he was weird now? Remus wouldn’t have blamed him—he’d tensed up and began crying at the sight of a building—not the most normal thing to do. Even worse, would Sirius ask him about it? How would he respond?

But when Remus walked into the dormitory, Sirius did none of the sort.

“Hey,” he said shyly.

Sirius looked up from his textbook, which is how Remus knew it was most certainly an act—Sirius didn’t just read school books over winter break for fun—and smiled. “Hey.”

Remus began changing out of the hospital pajamas and into his usual attire: the sweater Sirius had gotten him for Christmas, jeans, and some warm, fuzzy socks. “What kinda plans have you got for today?”

“Nada.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope.” Sirius slipped off his bed and offered an arm to Remus once he was fully dressed. “Madame Pomfrey said no funny business today, you need rest. Which is why…” he lifted his friend and tossed him on the bed, arguably not the most peaceful and relaxing action, but he was trying, “today, I am at your service.” He lifted a tray from the bedside table and handed it to Remus in a deep mock-bow. “Your breakfast, monsieur.” Sirius said in the most obnoxious, faux-posh accent he could imitate, which was a bit rich considering it was the way he’d sounded when they'd first met a few months ago.

Remus giggled at his friend’s antics, “Why thank you, good sir.”

Sirius took a running start and bounded on to his own bed. “And remember, no funny business. Anything you want, you come to me, alright?”

“Alright,” Remus said with a smile.

Having Sirius as his own personal helper turned out to be a lot more hectic and quite a bit more annoying than Remus had anticipated. His friend barely allowed him to place his own mug on a side table, or walk down the stairs to the common room, without insisting to help. But, he couldn’t deny it was certainly one of the better ways Sirius could have reacted. And it was actually quite nice to have snacks and warm apple cider and hot chocolate at the ready whenever he wanted—as long as he didn’t ask where it came from (“A magician never tells his secrets!” “Well, you’re not a magician, you’re a wizard.” “Same difference really.”)

He spent so much time laughing and enjoying bossing his friend around, that Remus barely even gave any thought to the full moon, or how he was going to explain his absence again. He couldn’t say he was going home, or else he would have gone for the whole holiday. He wondered if he could just sneak off without Sirius noticing, but with the way he’d been stuck at his hip, that didn’t seem too likely either.

When the time came, and Sirius asked him if he wanted to see if any of the other kids who’d stayed over the holidays wanted to join them for a special New Year’s celebration, Remus stuttered his way through something about still being tired from last night, and maybe going to the hospital wing again. He felt bad playing the anxiety card, especially considering the way Sirius looked even more worried, and kept asking if he’d messed up the rest day, but Remus assured him he’d be okay. Sirius offered to walk him to the hospital wing, but Remus insisted he should find those other kids and ring in the new year. “I hear Dumbledore makes fireworks with his wand at midnight.”

But when midnight came, Sirius sat alone in his dormitory, perched in his nook, looking out the window at the snow covered grounds. And in between fireworks blasts, he heard the faint, pained howling of a wolf.

***

### February, 1972

Neither boy brought up the night at the Shrieking Shack much after that, too busy listening to James complaining about the fun they’d had while he was gone—though he quickly forgot about it as Sirius showed him Peter’s gift—the book of magical pranks.

It wasn’t until well into February that Remus got a moment alone with Sirius, and had enough headspace to fully appreciate everything he’d done. He'd heavily considered just never mentioning it—he didn't particularly want to bring any attention back to that night—but thought back to how kindly Sirius had reacted and decided he deserved some gratitude.

The pair had found themselves on their window ledge again, both awakened by nightmares they couldn’t yet bring themselves to discuss. Instead, Remus broke the still silence saying, “I never got the chance to thank you—for helping me that night,” he jerked his head towards the darkened grounds below their window, “out there.” Frost had grown over the glass, further muddling their view. The rough stones which made up the nook beneath his bare feet were cold. A shiver ran down Remus' back. He tucked his legs tight into his chest for some warmth.

Sirius brushed off his gratitude with a hand wave, “It was nothing you lot wouldn’t have done for me, if I was hurt, or…” he trailed off. It was clear he still didn’t entirely understand what had occurred, but didn’t want to ask.

Silence fell for a brief moment, until Remus asked, curiously, “How did you know what to do?” He blushed just remembering the soft touches, the kind smiles, the deep breaths they had taken together. It hadn't been a perfect response—far from it—but he hadn't panicked nearly as much as he could have. And he'd figured out eventually the right combination of support and space.

Sirius didn’t meet his eyes, a very uncommon thing for Sirius Black to do. Instead, he stared out the frosty window, into the murky darkness. A few stars were visible and his gaze had latched onto their light as if they were his tether to reality. “My brother… gets like that sometimes.” His breath shuddered as he inhaled. Remus didn’t know if any non-werewolf would have heard, so he chose not to acknowledge it. “Never knew there was a name for it." He furrowed his brow, sharp eyes returning to Remus'. "Anxiety…”

“—attacks yeah,” Remus finished for him. “That’s what the muggles call it anyway. Mum tried to bring me to a therapist, but I guess there aren’t many of those in the wizarding world, and my dad insisted I not go to some lousy old muggle who ‘wouldn’t understand the situation—’” he cut himself off, bordering on dangerous territory. He cleared his throat and tried to pivot, “Don’t happen too often, though. And last time ended better than they usually do.”

Sirius looked up at that, nervous pride alight. “Did I do okay, then?”

They shared a small smile, “Yeah. You did.”

***


	3. June and July, 1972

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy a final day in the sun and spend the summer apart.

### June, 1972

The next few months of the boys' first year at Hogwarts flew by. They attended classes and forgot their homework and snuck around the castle, testing every statue and gargoyle for secret passageways. Remus’ transformations led to new cuts and scrapes, but nothing more serious than a few scars—most of which were hidden as long as he wore long sleeves, though that was getting more difficult as the weather improved. James told them his secret plan to make the elusive Lily Evans fall in love with him, something he had devised over the Easter holiday and was convinced had no flaws. Remus was less sure—though he would never say that to James' face. Who was he to deny Gryffindor house its new favorite source of entertainment?

As exams approached, Remus and Peter desperately tried to drag their friends off to the library to study, but found it virtually impossible—and then realized having them in the library only made it significantly harder to study. With James sending charmed paper airplanes covered in less-than-romantic notes in Lily’s direction and Sirius enchanting the books to fly around their heads, Remus eventually learned it was useless, and to just go on his own.

He’d also tried just bringing Peter along, thinking that the other boy couldn’t possibly be as much of a distraction, but Peter had a terrible habit of chewing on the quills Remus let him borrow, and he tapped on the table when he needed to think, which, while studying, was almost all the time.

And yet, somehow, all the boys scraped through with passing grades. And then it was the final week, and the boys found themselves out by the Great Lake. There had been enough mischief for the year, they could spend an afternoon off, lounging in the sun.

James was lazily playing with a stolen snitch, releasing it and snagging it from the air after a few seconds. Every so often, when out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Lily Evans, Marleen McKinnon, and a few other Gryffindor girls looking at them, he would attempt a more impressive catch, ruffling a hand through his already messy hair, though Remus was pretty sure none of them were actually watching at all.

Even if the girls weren’t looking, Peter made a nice enough audience to inflate James’ ego. He clapped at the almost-missed catches, and was there for a high five afterwards.

Remus was reading—no surprise there—and trying not to think about the old chains that awaited him in the basement of his house. He almost felt he’d been spoiled with the luxury that was the Shrieking Shack—and by the concept of having friends. It was going to be quite the lonely and secluded summer after a whole school year of antics. The village kids asked lots more questions about his scars, and were quite persistent, spreading rumors in the absence of an explanation. James had offered to have them all over—his house had loads of extra space—but Sirius couldn’t go and Remus knew the week coincided with the full moon, so they just decided to write, a lot.

Sirius was lying in the sun, eyes closed, hands behind his head, and though he looked peaceful, he was thinking. A lot. He was wondering if he should tell Remus that he knows.

It hadn’t been too difficult to put two and two together to figure out Remus was a werewolf—the cuts and scars, the monthly disappearances, the constant excuses. It was also plain to see that Remus didn’t want them to know. But Sirius wanted to help—he wanted to find a way to make it better, easier—tell Remus that he didn’t think it mattered, and if anything it was actually pretty cool to have a werewolf as a best mate. Maybe not that last part.

He was also thinking about going back to 12 Grimmauld Place. And how little he wanted to do that. With no letters from his family and constant distractions from his friends, he’d almost forgotten “home” was a place at all. He wondered if a whole year was enough time for them to get over his being a Gryffindor. He doubted it. That wasn’t how the Black family functioned; betrayals ran deep, and grudges were held forever. He tried to erase the thought from his mind.

For now, he was in the sun, with his three best friends, and could pretend that this was home, and this was where he’d stay.

The boys remained under the tree by the Great Lake until the sun set and eventually the professors came around to force them back inside. And then they stayed up the entire night, telling their favorite stories, vividly recounting their best pranks, and not thinking about the train that awaited them the next morning.

***

### July, 1972

James Potter went home to loving arms, a handmade “Welcome Home!” banner hanging in the kitchen, and a new broom waiting to be unwrapped on his bed—the fastest on the market. Peter came home to a house that smelled of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, and his favorite meal sitting on the table, with two parents ready and eager to hear about his first year at school. Remus arrived to a mostly deserted neighborhood and families crossing the street as he walked home. Inside, his parents were sitting, a single welcome home present in their hands—a polaroid camera and some film. Though it didn’t look like much, Remus was incredibly excited. He knew how much time it must have taken to save up the money for even such a small gift.

Sirius opened the door to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and breathed in deep. It would be his most relaxed moment all summer. When his mother laid eyes on him, smart enough to have changed out of his Gryffindor sweater, but not thinking enough in the rush of leaving his friends to remember the pair of jeans he was wearing, she burst out in disgust. Remarks covered everything from his long, messy hair to his “horrid muggle fashion” to his disgraceful placement in Gryffindor.

When he finally managed to escape upstairs, the shouting followed him, echoing through the dark, winding hallways. He ran into his brother coming out of his room, and hastily wiped the tears from his cheek.

“Figured you were home. Heard the yelling.” Regulus said, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” was all Sirius could manage, unable to lift his head. He made to continue up the stairs, when Regulus interjected.

“I wanted to write.” Sirius looked back. “To say congrats, ya know. But mum wouldn’t let me. You know how she gets.”

“Yeah,” he repeated. He wanted to burst into tears again, warmth swelling across his body. His little brother didn’t hate him. He could get through the long summer ahead, because his brother didn’t hate him.

“So, uh, congrats. Hope you had some fun.”

“Thanks—and yeah, I did. Lots.”

Regulus gave him one more timid smile before shutting the door and returning to his room. Sirius headed up to his room. He could get through this summer.

***


	4. September, 1972

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys reconnect after a summer apart.

## Year 2

### September, 1972

The train platform was bustling, as it always was on September 1st. Ever the punctual one, Remus bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, struggling to see over the mob of people to find his friends. He’d grown over the summer, but not nearly enough to stand above a crowd. Peter was second to show up, standing beside him after saying goodbye to his family. They made small talk until Sirius came, weaving through the crowd to give the boys a giant hug, unable to suppress the grin on his face. His hair was shorter again, chopped off by his mother as soon as he had come home, and he was wearing the same too-fancy-for-the-Hogwarts-Express clothes again.

The clock ticked away, slowly inching towards eleven o'clock. Sirius tried to hide the anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. James had never been good at arriving on time but surely his parents—

“Black.” A smug grin grew on James' face as he strutted through the crowd, arms open wide.

“Potter!” Sirius bolted and took a running leap at his friend, causing quite a few mothers to shoot him a disgusted side eye, but he didn’t care. He simply couldn’t wait to see his friends after the summer he’d had. "Son of a bitch, I thought you were going to miss the train," he exclaimed, but his hold on James was as tight as ever.

The four clambered onto the train together, finding a compartment and shutting the doors behind them.

“Alright summer, James?” Peter asked.

“Better than alright! My parents got me a new broom—the fastest one on the market—and my dad helped me train for quidditch trials. Mostly chaser stuff since that’s the spot that’s open. Listen, d’ya think Evans is more into chasers or seekers?”

Remus groaned, “Summer didn’t make you get over her?”

“Nope! I’m back and better than ever, baby. This is my year, you’ll see.”

Sirius gasped, pointing into the hallway, “There she is, Potter! Right outside, waiting to talk to you.”

James hastily scrambled out of his seat, climbing over Peter and ruffling his hair before realizing there was absolutely nobody outside the compartment. “Very funny Sirius.” The other boys chuckled as he sheepishly sat back down.

When the laughter died down, Remus asked what was on all their minds. “Speaking of Sirius, what’s up with the radio silence?”

“My mum took my owl. Said no one under her roof would be communicating with ‘those no good Gryffindors.’” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the slicked back look he had no doubt been forced into.

“Well she got that right at least, we’re a buncha trouble,” said James, kicking his feet up onto the table between them. “Wouldn’t want your pure Slytherin blood to be corrupted would you?”

By the time the boys arrived at Hogwarts, they’d discussed their summers—Peter dragging on about how his two month tour of the States was the worst possible way to spend a summer, come up with at least ten new pranks to play on the Slytherins, and Sirius, Remus, and Peter had taken considerable bets on how long it’d be until James made a fool of himself in front of Lily. Remus bet two weeks, Peter said nine days, Sirius gave him all of five hours. James sat in the corner, pouting for the duration of the conversation.

Remus was just happy for another good year, and the chance to use his new camera. He snapped a photo at his friends’ request—they’d all been excited to document as much of their antics as possible. The picture was a bit blurry—James with his tie around his forehead, Sirius trying to hide his haircut by running a hand through it, Peter wrapping an arm around James with a wide smile on his face. It was perfect.

The full moon was weeks away and the furthest thing from his mind. The summers had given him plenty of new scars and various injuries—he always hurt himself more when he was chained up rather than in the Shrieking Shack—but very few of them were visible, most showing up around his chest. His wrists were still sore from where the wolf pulled and yanked against the cold metal, and his knees had grown weaker over the summer, but the pain seemed far away when he was busy laughing and sharing sweets with his best mates.

The sorting ceremony and start of year feast was a fairly uneventful one, none of the boys had any specific ties to any of the new first years, though they cheered loudly for all the incoming Gryffindors.

By far the best part of the night, at least according to most of the Gryffindor table (besides an embarrassed and disgruntled James Potter) was when he tried to wave to Lily, but forgot he was holding pumpkin juice and spilled all down his robes. Shiny silver sickles were passed to Sirius and he collected them with pride (“I know my best friend, and if there’s one thing he’ll do consistently, it’s make a fool of himself for Lily Evans.”)

The boys headed up to bed, stuffed with all the pudding they could eat. On the way up, Sirius pulled Remus aside in the corridor.

“Hey… uh, I didn’t wanna say this in front of the other boys, but do you think you could take the jeans you bought me back with you this summer? My mother nearly lit them on fire when she saw me in muggle clothing and I’d hate to lose them.”

Remus stifled a laugh, but smiled, “Sure… but only if you take my favorite sweater. An even trade off.” He put on a wistful expression, “something to remember me by.”

Sirius shoved him lightly. “Oh come off it.” They continued up the stairs, “But thanks.”

“Anytime.”

When they arrived in the dormitory, the boys laid on their beds, too tired to properly unpack. They’d surely regret it in the morning in the scramble to get ready for classes, but there was little space for forethought in the minds of twelve year olds. They rummaged through their trunks for anything that vaguely resembled pajamas and headed straight to bed. There would be time for mischief in the morning.

***

It was the end of September, and Sirius was still deciding whether or not to tell Remus that he knew his secret. He wished there was some subtle way of dropping, “Hey, I actually wouldn’t care at all if you happened to be a werewolf or something,” naturally in a conversation, but there really wasn’t.

The full moon had come and gone and Remus “went home to visit his mother” again, right on schedule. And he came back with purple bruises on his arms and an anxious look on his face, spewing some lies about falling on the pavement.

And James and Peter were eating it right up. Sometimes, Sirius doubted his friends’ observation skills.

He didn’t want to make Remus nervous—if James and Peter hadn’t noticed, it was likely no one else had either. No one else knew he spent nights away from the castle because no one else was in their dormitory. But Sirius still wanted to help. He also didn’t really know what he could do.

He’d made the connection over the summer between Remus’ anxiety and the full moon—it’d seemed obvious as soon as he thought about it. That first full moon he proved his theory, looking out the window to spot two figures, no doubt Madame Pomfrey and Remus, walking out across the grounds towards the Shrieking Shack.

It was then that he decided that he wouldn’t tell him outright, at least, not yet.

So Sirius began going to the library. The idea actually startled his friends so much they offered to walk him to the hospital wing, James asking if he’d hit his head too hard when they’d been practicing for quidditch try-outs. But Sirius Black, a perfectly healthy and unharmed—as he twice reassured Madame Pomfrey—Sirius Black, began going to the library.

And he found himself incredibly frustrated at wizard authors. Easily a thousand books on Alchemy and Animagi and Astronomy, but not a single one on anxiety? He could appreciate the fact that ‘my best friend’s a werewolf and he doesn’t know that I know that he is, and I’m trying to help him cope with the stress that he’s under around the full moon’ was a bit of a niche topic, but one would think there’d be at least one wizarding self-help book. Yet, he’d scoured the shelves thrice over and not found a single one.

So Sirius gave up on the library. He knew there was a reason he'd never liked that place.

And for a while, his mind was taken off of Remus and werewolves and the full moon altogether, because something much more important was coming up: quidditch trials.

James must have found it physically impossible to stop thinking or talking about it, because for the whole week prior he barely even mentioned Lily Evan’s name. Remus had never seen James so anxious, though he hid it well behind lopsided smiles and self-deprecating jokes. He had always been so suave, so confident in himself and all the reckless shit he got up to, it had never occurred to Remus that James could be anything but sure of himself. He asked the boys to come and help him train every morning before classes, and if it weren’t for how nervous he was, all of them would have objected. However, they knew how much making the team meant to him, so, against their better judgment, Sirius, Remus, and Peter found themselves out on the quidditch pitch on a cold and windy morning.

Remus enchanted the quaffles to fly, preferring to stay out of the air himself, while James made catch after catch, then promptly darting down the field. Sirius played as keeper, sometimes intentionally allowing the balls to go through, just to boost James’ confidence a bit. And Peter kept Remus company on the ground, cheering loudly whenever James scored a particularly impressive goal.

They could all see he was a very talented player—even Remus who honestly didn’t really care about quidditch all that much. Sometimes he got in his own head a bit, trying too many complicated broom tricks instead of simply throwing the ball, but for the most part he was a stellar player.

Which is why no one was surprised when he climbed through the portrait hole, soaked through from rain but smiling wider than anyone had ever seen, declaring himself one of Gryffindor’s next chasers.

With a whoop, his friends tackled him in a hug, Sirius knocking him a few playful punches and ruffling his hair.

“Does this mean no one six a.m. wake ups?” Peter asked, only partially joking.

***


	5. November, 1972

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first quidditch match of the season and the Marauders gain their name. Sirius confesses to James about Remus' condition.

###  November, 1972

The first quidditch match came up fast, and the whole school was buzzing with excitement. The boys were surprised to see random fifth year students come up to them in the corridors, patting James on the back and wishing him good luck. At dinner, a few, very pretty third year girls came over and told James they’d be cheering for him, then scurried away, giggling like mad. And the attention was  _ definitely _ going to his head.

Morning of, he walked up to the breakfast table, and set his hand between Lily and Marleen, who had been deep in conversation.

“Evans, comin’ to see the match later?” he said with what Sirius was sure James  thought  was a seductive smirk.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” She replied coolly, clearly not amused, and continued to talk to her friends as if he weren’t even there.

James sulked back to his own seat to suppressed laughter from Remus and various twists on, “you’ll get ‘em next time, tiger,” from Sirius. Peter gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder.

He’d brushed off the blow from his ego by the match, thankfully, and seemed amped and ready to fly when they’d left him by the locker rooms. Sirius, Remus, and Peter got prime seats and stood, shivering, but decked out in Gryffindor red and gold. Peter had even made a sign on it that read “Go Potter!” Sirius had wanted it to say “#7 on the pitch, #1 in our hearts,” but he’d been out voted.

It was a good day for quidditch—bright, if not considerably warm. Not bad enough to lose much visibility to the sun though. The teams stepped out on the field and the stands erupted in cheers. They kicked off, the quaffle was thrown, and the match was on.

The first few minutes were tense, with both teams coming close to scoring many times. Things were looking down when Slytherin scored the first points of the game—following it closely with another two goals. The Gryffindor stands screamed louder, hopeful for a comeback, when James got passed the quaffle for the first time. Even those least interested in quidditch knew his name, and the reputation he had swiftly gained. He took off across the pitch, dodging and swerving the opposing chasers, and narrowly avoiding a bludger aimed at his head. And then he scored Gryffindor’s first points of the game.

The crowd went wild, with Remus, Sirius, and Peter cheering loudest of all.

The game ended after a few nail-biting moments—Slytherin scoring another thirty points in a row, followed by another twenty by Gryffindor. But in the end, Robert Oliveroot, the reliable Gryffindor seeker found the snitch, flying just above the Slytherin end goal posts, ending the game: 60 to 180, Gryffindor.

Peter, Remus, and Sirius followed the lively crowd of their fellow housemates, singing along to their songs of victory and joining in the chants when they could. The merry bunch made their way all the way up to the Gryffindor common room, where they were eventually joined by the winning team, to thunderous applause from all.

James found his friends quickly and accepted their congratulations with a forced smile. “What’s going on, Potter? Why aren’t you celebrating? You made the first goal for Gryffindor!” Sirius shouted, confusedly, over the music and loud celebrations.

James’ face dropped. “Evans skipped the game to spend time with that stupid, greasy haired Slytherin she’s always hanging out with. What’s his name again?”

“Snivellus—” Sirius began, snickering.

“It’s Severus. Snape.” Remus corrected, rolling his eyes.

“But… didn’t she tell you she wasn’t going this morning?” Peter began, hesitantly.

“Well, yeah. But I thought she was kidding! Just like a flirty little lie, ya know, so I’d be surprised when I saw her in the stands.”

Remus barely resisted the urge to drop his head in his hands. James could be so thick sometimes.

“Well I know just the thing that’ll cheer you up. Let's have a celebration of our own—nick some food from the kitchens! Remember when Remus figured out how to do it, end of last year?”

James’ face did brighten significantly at that. “Yeah, alright.”

So off they went, sneaking down the corridors in the invisibility cloak to the painting of the giant pear. They didn’t realize until after they were down there, however, that there was barely enough room for the four of them under the cloak on their own, and holding food was a different story.

After quite a bit of arguing and a fair amount of shoving, nearly toppling a stack of pastries lined up for the next morning's breakfast, they eventually decided to send Remus to walk outside the cloak, and then rest would sneak the food back under the cloak. Their argument was that Remus, if caught, could say he was heading back from the library, which Remus thought was dumb for several reasons—the first being that the library was no where near the kitchens, the second that he had no books nor homework with him, and the last being that he was sure every professor was aware of the Gryffindor victory in quidditch, and that Remus had a close friend on the team, and that he most certainly would have been at the game and then the after-party, and not the library. Despite Remus’ doubts, the plan actually did almost work out. Emphasis on  _ almost _ .

About a third of the way down the staircase leading away from the Hufflepuff common room, Remus, and his invisible friends, found themselves passing a jovial Professor McGonagall. She actually bought the library lie, still quite elated after Gryffindor’s victory, and encouraged Remus to join the festivities instead of studying—even going as far to give him a homework pass since he’d been so good at turning everything in on time. Everything was going smoothly, that is, until Peter got his foot stuck in the trick stair.

Remus stood frozen and watched in horror as his friend, carrying trays of pumpkin pasties and hugging a bottle of butterbeer, slowly became visible, rooted to the spot.

McGonagall turned her head from Remus to Peter and her expression darkened. “Potter, Black, reveal yourselves immediately.”

The pair took the cloak off sheepishly, revealing their own stacks of goodies.

“Oh honestly, Mr. Lupin, I thought you were better than this. All four of you, to my office immediately.” She began climbing up the stairs, “And leave the pastries.”

In her office, Professor McGonagall gave them a stern talking to (“And after such a delightful victory Mr. Potter, I would congratulate you but unfortunately the circumstances are thus—”) and snatched the butterbeer James had stupidly tried to hide in his quidditch jersey. “I am tired of you marauders thinking you can strut around the castle, breaking any rules you like without any consequences—” James looked straight at Sirius, eyes glowing like a child at Christmas. The pair nodded together, then looked back at their other two friends. A silent agreement was made. Professor McGonagall caught on, with an “Oh, no. Don’t go calling yourselves—” but it was already set. They were the Marauders.

Eventually, McGonagall ran herself dry with yelling, gave them each two detentions, and sent them back off to the Gryffindor common room. As the boys left the room, disappointed with their failure but excited to get back to the party, Sirius pulled something from his robes. Two bottles of butterbeer.

“How’d you manage to get those, but I got mine taken?” James whined.

“Magic,” Sirius smirked.

“Oh, give it here—” James snatched one impatiently, but laughed with the others all the way back to the dormitory.

The boys shared the two bottles, mourning the fact that they had to wake up early the next morning for detention, laughing about Peter and the trick stair, and reminiscing about the best parts of the game. It wasn’t until everyone else in the common room had gone to bed that the boys packed up and headed to their own dormitory, but not before Remus took out his camera and snapped a photo of his three best friends.

***

Sirius was feeling immensely guilty. He hadn’t given Remus’ monthly…  _ issue _ any more thought since the library had turned up no results. He’d gotten all swept up in quidditch and mischief and magic and the rush of accelerated classes.

So it was his fault that Remus came back from the hospital wing with a gaping claw mark against his chest, wrapped up in bandages that covered nearly his whole torso. No one but the Marauders had seen it—the first time he’d changed into pajamas, forgetting to draw the curtains around him as he took off his shirt, the boys had erupted into gasps, with a “whoa, Remus what happened?” from Peter and a “wicked!” from James.

Sirius’ stomach twisted every time he remembered how enamored he had been, himself, with the scars that covered Remus, head to toe.

Remus didn’t think anyone noticed, but he winced every time he stretched or moved too fast. Sirius caught it most often when Remus was reading, as he was prone to finding himself in the strangest of positions when he was most engrossed, draped over arm chairs and sofas. Everytime he switched spots, a sharp inhale escaped his lips, just faint enough that no one could hear it but the boy sitting right next to him.

Sirius felt a stabbing sensation in his gut every time Remus did so. He couldn’t help wondering if somehow it was his lack of attention that had driven this, even though he had absolutely no evidence to support such a thought. Twelve year old boys were selfish in this way.

One night, Sirius grew impatient with his friends’ thick-headedness.

“Don’t ya think Remus’ gash is wicked?” asked James, lying upside-down over his bed, throwing a broken snitch up and down lazily. “Battle scars ‘n all that.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “No, James, I really don’t. Haven’t you realized yet how he’s getting all these ‘battle scars?’”

James stopped playing with the snitch. He turned his head to face Sirius. “What’re you playing at?”

Sirius threw his hands down in exhaustion. “He’s a werewolf you idiot! Haven’t you noticed every time he ‘goes home to visit mum’ it’s the full moon?”

James sat up, eyes as wide as saucers. “Merlin! You’re saying you think Remus, our best mate, is a bloody werewolf?!”

It was just their luck that at that very moment, Remus and Peter happened to be returning from the library, opening the dormitory door just in time to hear the ‘Remus is a werewolf’ part.

The scarred boy stopped dead in his tracks like a deer in headlights, causing Peter to bump into him. Sirius shot daggers at James for his explosion, and then turned to Remus with a worried expression on his face.

Before Sirius could even open his mouth, Remus bolted.

He ran up the stairs, out the portrait hole, and all the way to the one eyed witch passage the boys had discovered in their first year. His friends ran after him, but were unable to catch up. James and Sirius were athletic, sure, but Remus was nimble, and though he was injured, nothing could compete with the adrenaline of realizing your three best friends know you’re a monster.

Remus choked out, “Dissendium,” and slid into the hidden passageway. He slid down the wall and curled into a ball. The room was cramped, cold, dark, and isolated—the perfect spot to sit and cry, possibly for all eternity.

Remus felt like he was suffocating. He couldn’t imagine a Hogwarts without James, Sirius, and Peter. He’d finally found friends, true, genuine friends who didn’t know his past, nor his condition, and just treated him like a normal person. But that was all over.

He figured they’d be heading to Professor Dumbledore now, requesting a room change, not wanting to sleep in a dorm with such a foul creature as a werewolf. Nobody wanted to be friends with a monster.

Remus hugged his legs in tighter and sobbed, hiccuping. His injured knee throbbed in protest, finally catching up to the flight he had taken. He wanted to collapse into himself. Better yet, he wanted to simply cease existing entirely. Being curled up in a ball made his stomach wound ache as well, but he welcomed the misery. Just another painful reminder of the burden he had to live with for the rest of his life. When he felt like he could no longer cry, too exhausted and dehydrated to do anything except choke down a few sobs, he lifted his head from his knees, pressing it hard against the stone wall that surrounded him.

It was only then that he heard the muffled sounds of panting and argument above him, broken every so often by a stray hiccup.

“Nice going James.”

“Me? How was I supposed to react when you go tellin’ me outta the blue he’s a bloody werewolf?”

“Better than that! Now what’s the damn spell, dissadium? Dissen—”

“Dissendium!” James’ voice rang out clearly as the passageway opened once more, and suddenly, Remus had company. “Hey Moony!” James said brightly, receiving a hard punch from Sirius who slid down behind him.

“Seriously, James? Nicknames? Is this really the time?”

“Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Remus was speechless.

“Listen, I know this probably isn’t how you wanted us all to find out, but uh, we all know now, and we’re all fine with it!” Sirius began. His speech was briefly interrupted by some panting and the red, round face of Peter Pettigrew appearing in the pocket of light above them. Remus hiccuped.

“Are we honestly…” Peter started, but decided it wasn’t worth it, and slid down the passageway as well, closing the lid behind him.

“As I was saying,” Sirius started again, “Remus, we really don’t mind that you’re a werewolf. You’re our friend first, and we’re here for you, however we can help.”

“Yeah, I actually think it’s wicked, innit—Ouch!” James received yet another punch in the shoulder from Sirius. Remus managed to crack a smile, and even a slight laugh.

Sirius gave him a reassuring smile, “You alright then?”

Remus wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded.

Peter clapped his hands together. “Right! Well, as much as I love a little brotherly bonding time, it is quite cramped in here so…” He opened the lid and made his way out, reaching out a hand to help the others.

Remus came out last, to Sirius swinging an arm around his shoulders and clapping him on the back. “You never had to lie, you know.”

Remus smiled. They made their way back to the dormitory.

***


	6. December, 1972 and February, 1973

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders tackle their first full moon knowing about Remus' condition. Sirius and Remus spend another Christmas together at Hogwarts. An interlude and preface to the growing rivalry between the Marauders and Severus Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: briefly goes into Remus' transformations at home with some bordering on abusive parenting

### December, 1972

The Marauders knowing about Remus’ “furry little problem” as James took to calling it, instantly relieved so much anxiety, it was unbelievable. All of the last minute lies, the coverups for the injuries, the sneaking out every night of the full moon, the worries that his friends would find out and leave him, all of it was gone.

It was strange at first, not having to lie or sneak, but Remus definitely decided it was a million times better.

What he hadn’t anticipated, was the number of questions his friends would spam him with at all hours of the day. While eating pudding, “Can you have chocolate since wolves are allergic?” In potions class, “Do you remember, like, wolfing out, or do you just black it all out?” When Remus replied that he had no memories of full moons, James just shook his head, “Shame.” While trying to go to bed, “Do you think if I howled out our window next week, you’d howl back?” to which Remus replied, “Shut up, Sirius.”

Christmas was fast approaching, and with it, the full moon. It fell just before break this year, but Remus still didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want Sirius to be alone, especially not at the holidays. And he hated to admit it, but Christmas at Hogwarts was significantly more magical—both the wizard and non-wizard kind—than spending the break at home.

So, for a second year in a row, Remus wrote home to tell them he wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas.

The stress of upcoming exams, coupled with the full moon growing closer and closer was not good for Remus’ mental state. He managed to pull it together during classes, but practically every moment outside of that was spent sleeping, studying, stressing, or a combination of the three. In fact, Madam Pince kicked him out of the library for falling asleep on his textbooks so many times that she told him he couldn’t come back in until he brought a buddy with him—someone to wake him up if he started to doze off.

And that’s how the Marauders found themselves in the library. Turns out they were the wrong people to bring, as Sirius was too worried about the amount of sleep Remus was getting to dare to wake him up, and James and Peter were having too much fun playing exploding snap (which, it should be noted, was banned from the library) to even notice their friend had fallen asleep.

But, once again, to everyone’s surprise, all four of them passed their mid-year exams, and suddenly it was nearing the time for James and Peter to leave again. Remus was still in the hospital wing, recovering from the last full moon on the morning they had to go, but the Marauders didn’t let that stop them from having a proper send off.

The three boys piled into the nearly empty hospital wing, arms stuffed with sweets and games and virtually anything that would bound to give Madame Pomfrey a migraine. She took one sweeping look over the empty beds, and at Remus’ pleading expression, one of finally being open with his friends, of finally having a support system for the illness that had been tearing up his body for years, and she went back into her office. Remus didn’t miss the _hmph_ that sighed under her breath, but he was eternally grateful that she hadn’t made a fuss.

The boys spend the morning eating and talking and playing wizards chess, the board carefully laid on a pillow over Remus’ lap so he could play without leaning over too much. His right knee had popped out of its socket (and put right by Madame Pomfrey) and there were a few bandages wrapped around his abdomen (the wolf had taken to tearing into the skin at his sides recently) but otherwise Remus was mostly unbothered from the night. He knew he should be sleeping; his eyes were growing heavy though he fought against it with all his might. How could he fall asleep when his friends were there, right in front of him, with all the goodies they could have managed to hold?

Eventually the time came when James and Peter had to leave, not wanting to miss the train back home. Remus was thankful that this goodbye was a bit easier, more well rehearsed. They knew they’d see each other after the break, and since their discovery, the Marauders were closer than ever. Finally there were no secrets between them.

When it was just Remus and Sirius, the air grew taut, the silence a living being, stretching out and wrapping tight around the pair. Remus didn’t understand what had caused the change, used to a much more casual atmosphere around Sirius. The long-haired boy’s face was closed over, unreadable, as he asked carefully, “Could I see them?”

Remus hadn’t been expecting him to speak, still lost in the tense silence. He looked over with a puzzled expression. Sirius’ eyes were turned away, fixed on the half-put away, half destroyed pile of chess pieces as if it were the most interesting sight in the world.

“See… what?”

Remus could have sworn he saw a slight blush rising in Sirius’ cheeks, but his gaze stayed solemnly away. The next words came slowly, calculated, “Your scars.”

Remus had never shown anyone his scars. If he could help it, no one would see more than just his hands, neck, and face, besides himself, Madame Pomfrey, and his parents. He wore long sleeves as much as he could, and pants were always a must. Even in the middle of summer he did his best to wear long socks, covering the feather light tendrils that curled up his ankles.

Sometimes, if he stared at his reflection long enough, he’d even wish he could wear a mask, cover the lines etched into his cheek, along his jawline, jagged through one eyebrow.

Remus didn’t know what Sirius was expecting him to do—pull a sleeve back, roll up his pants, take off his shirt? All of those seemed terrifying.

 _A sleeve_ — _that was manageable_ , Remus reckoned with himself. It would hopefully satisfy Sirius’ morbid curiosity without Remus having to expose the worst of the damage. His left arm, he decided—it had a few tangled scars, tally marks wrapping around skin and bone, but most of the skin was still clean, untouched by the foul claw marks.

Wordlessly, he rolled up the thick sweater, just up to his elbow. _Just as if I was writing something in the safety of an empty dormitory_ he told himself.

Sirius’ eyes latched themselves on the longest winding scar. He reached out, but stopped himself before their bodies connected. Those stormy eyes seemed darker as they flashed up, connecting with Remus’. Remus stared, mesmerized, into the deep pools of whirling ink that gazed back at him, “May I…?” Sirius trailed off.

Remus swallowed, but nodded.

With a single finger, Sirius traced the line, from Remus’ palm, gently twisting his arm around, until he met the soft knit of the green sweater. He left a line of fire behind, where his finger had been, the ghost of contact. The scar continued well above where Sirius’ finger sat, Remus was familiar with it. Sirius didn’t lift his touch. “And you did these… yourself?”

There was something in his tone, a strain, a careful caution, a guarded pain, that made Remus wrench his arm away, hastily pulling down the cuffed sleeve. “Yeah.”

Sirius was luckily socially adept to realize the conversation was over. He cleared his throat, “Right, I’ll leave you to rest then.” He left without another glance back.

Sirius and Remus’ holiday was just slightly less eventful than the last. Sirius hadn’t asked again to see his scars, for which Remus was grateful. He was also eternally thankful for a Christmas break at Hogwarts with absolutely zero anxiety attacks. There were just pranks, and sleepless nights out on the grounds when it was far too cold and much too dark to be out there, and lots of festive cheer.

They lay on the frost-covered grounds, wrapped up in Gryffindor blankets, staring up at the stars ahead. With the castle lights off, Sirius could see more stars than were ever visible in London. He pointed out his favorite constellations, of course noting Canis Major (“and the star Sirius is the brightest one in the night sky!”) and Lupus. Remus knew nothing about the stars, and had never been very interested in knowing anything about the sky beyond the ever-terrifying phases of the moon, but he was happy enough watching Sirius’ excited expression as he identified more constellations and did his best to help Remus find them (“Okay, look straight up and then a touch to your left—other left”). He eventually grabbed his arm and marked out the shapes himself. Remus didn’t even feel uneasy with the waning moon looming over them. A shooting star passed over their heads. Remus charted its progress with his eyes and his gaze landed on Sirius who was smiling goofily back at him.

Remus took his camera everywhere he went that holiday, deciding he didn’t want to worry about “wasting” film. It was expensive, yes, but if something was worth taking a picture of in the moment, it was worth the expense. Which is how Remus ended up with something bordering on a shrine to Sirius—pictures in an ugly Christmas sweater Dumbledore had inexplicably gotten each student who stayed for the holidays, hanging from a tree on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, smiling his charmingly mischievous grin next to their (much more successful than last year’s) snowman.

Sirius had offered to take a picture of him in return, but Remus refused. He was content to be behind the camera, the beholder, and capturer of such beauty and pure joy.

With a piece of spellotape, he fixed them to the wall beside his bed. Some were blurry, others far too overexposed, but Remus was proud of each and every one.

Christmas morning came ‘round again, bringing with it crackling fires in the chimneys, presents under the tree, and a light sprinkling of snow.

After gift unwrapping and a splendid breakfast, Sirius and Remus found themselves lounging in the Gryffindor common room by the fire, each sipping on a cup of hot chocolate. Remus was reading, Sirius simply lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, hugging a pillow. His hair had grown out again and was falling in his eyes, but he didn’t bother adjusting.

“So uh, I don’t wanna bug you with questions about wolfy stuff again, especially not during Christmas—”

Remus smiled and put down his book. It was well past the full moon, and he’d had enough time to at least mentally recover. At least, that’s what he thought. “Ask away.”

“Really?” Sirius sat upright. “Cool, I didn’t think you’d actually say yes. So, that house they put you in—”

“You can call it the Shrieking Shack, Sirius, I don’t mind.”

“Okay so the Shrieking Shack, how do they know you can’t get out? I mean there’s gotta be another entrance somewhere right? Hogwarts is full of secret tunnels and stuff, there’s no way that creepy old place doesn’t have some tricks up its sleeve.”

“Well, it used to. You know that Whomping Willow that’s just past the greenhouses?”

“Yeah, that crazy tree that tries to kill anyone that gets close?”

“That’s the one. It was planted our first year, ‘cause it blocks off the entrance to the only secret tunnel out of the Shrieking Shack.”

Sirius thought about that for a second. “Wicked.” There was a pause before he asked another question, that had been weighing on his mind quite a bit, “Do you ever wake up there?” He hesitated, “You know… in the Shrieking Shack, instead of the hospital wing.”

Remus’ stomach clenched at the thought. He closed his eyes, feeling the memory wash over him as if it had just happened. “Yeah. Once.” He didn’t say more. Sirius didn’t press him.

The pair sat in tense silence for a few moments.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, closed it, reconsidering, and then spoke. “And, when you’re home?”

“Sirius, I really don’t want to talk about it.” Remus already felt close to tears. He hated thinking about that basement when he didn’t have to. The look on his father’s face as he grunted, pulling the chains tighter, digging deep into young skin, leaving dark bruises for days to come. The echoing sobs of his mother who couldn’t stand to face him down there. Waking up. Cold. Alone. Broken.

The nightmares.

Remus collected his things and silently headed back to the dormitory.

Meanwhile, Sirius was mentally beating himself on the head for being so stupid. Of course he didn’t want to talk about that kind of stuff over Christmas break, or any time for that matter. No use bringing old trauma back to light, Sirius knew that. His selfish curiosity had gotten the best of him.

Sirius really couldn’t help wondering, though. It was those types of thoughts that haunted him at night when he couldn’t sleep, staring up at the big moon out of the window. He couldn’t imagine how Remus felt, knowing such a horrific ordeal would follow him around for the rest of his life. Not to mention how terribly people treated werewolves. Sirius’ family was to the extreme, sure, but even everyday witches and wizards mistrusted werewolves.

When Sirius came into the dark bedroom, faint light streaming in behind him making him more silhouette than human, Remus appeared to be already fast asleep, but Sirius could have sworn he heard a few stray hiccups that night.

***

### February, 1973

Remus hadn’t meant to look through the box beneath Sirius’ bed. He’d been frantically digging around everything near his bed, trying to find the vial of Murtlap Essence Madame Pomfrey had given him for his cuts and scrapes—it did nothing to heal them but had eased some of the pain. Somehow he’d misplaced it, in the rush of getting ready during the lucky days when pain evaded him, but the newly torn skin was aching and he was damn near ready to scream.

He knew it had been on the floor somewhere between their two beds, so it wasn’t unlikely that one of them had kicked it underneath at some point.

So Remus found himself scouring around in the contents under Sirius’ bed. Which is when he found the box.

It was fairly small and unassuming, a pretty robin’s egg blue color. Inside were piles and piles of letters, torn and folded parchment.

Remus would’ve just replaced the lid—and he had already started to—if it were not for his own name signed on the note at the top of the stack. He paused.

Remus tried to push it back under the bed without digging any further, but his curiosity got the best of him. He pulled off the lid once more and pulled out the card—the one that he’d attached to Sirius’ Christmas gift. It had been a bit of a throwaway note, just meant to wish him a Merry Christmas and say thanks for being a friend, but for some reason Sirius had kept it.

A few more peeks through the pile and Remus discovered nearly every note he’d ever written to the boy, along with torn out Excellents on his homework papers and exams, and other letters from James and Peter. There were a few names he didn’t recognise; Remus guessed Andromeda Black was one of the less-extreme family members, and he smiled knowing maybe Sirius wasn’t completely alone when he left school.

He wondered why Sirius kept all these tiny notes, and didn’t miss how not a single one was from his immediate family. He didn’t let his curiosity hold him up any longer however, as he heard footsteps pounding up the staircase toward the dormitory.

Hastily, Remus shoved the small, blue box back under the bed and leapt onto his own four poster. The pain that had plagued his skin had dulled with the rush of adrenaline.

Remus made a mental note to put a bit more effort into his notes to Sirius.

***

In the wake of post-exam greetings had come the realization that exams were months away, and classes wouldn’t _really matter_ until well into the spring season. So, of course, the Marauders had made themselves busy, sneaking around the castle, exploring the grounds, and trying to dodge professors all the while.

By February, James’ new, slightly unfortunate—if not for his morals, then certainly his reputation—hobby had become tormenting Severus Snape. The young, greasy-haired boy hung around Lily Evans far too much for James’ liking. And of course, there were the rumors of his darker side, the one that believed in blood purity and eradicating all muggleborns from the Earth.

Remus highly doubted any twelve year old student could have such darkness in their heart, but he understood the misunderstanding as he watched Snape kissing up to the older Slytherins, most of whom had twisted reputations, some with quite serious accusations.

It didn’t help that Severus was too shy—head always hung low, dark hair shielding his eyes, nose stuck deep in his own potions books within which he was always scribbling something—to ever defend his reputation. What he did manage to muster out rarely ever helped, either.

But Severus Snape would have anyone believe the match was uneven, a pompous Gryffindor prat and his three lackeys coming to attack and belittle a poor, defenseless Slytherin. This was wholly untrue. While James Potter had his three friends beside him, Severus Snape was slowly building favor amongst those he so sincerely sought. Students with much less restraint, and much more power, like Lucius Malfoy.

The rivalry began innocently, as most young rivalries do: shoulders unnecessarily knocked in the hallways, some taunting and name calling. Things stayed civil while Lily was around, which Remus was grateful happened to be quite a bit. But when she was gone, James’ charming smile would twist to a malicious smirk, Severus’ innocent, victimized face contorting into a snide sneer.

***


	7. April, May, and July 1973

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily and Remus seek solace in each other's presence to avoid their friend's rivalry. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw face off in the final match of the Quidditch House Cup. Another summer where the boys go their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: very brief mention of abusive family situations

### April, 1973

By mid-April, the rivalry had escalated to hexes between classes, purposefully seeking one another out, and intent to harm. Now, this definition of harm was a second year’s, so the consequences were closer to detention and points taken from houses rather than blood and gore. Even so, it certainly was not Remus’ favorite thing about his friends. Sirius seemed to go along with it far too easily, always joining in with a “yeah, _Snivellious_.” Peter's participation was predictable; to him, James Potter was the lead to follow, but Remus had expected more from Sirius. Though, Remus reasoned with himself, he had never stepped in to stop it either. And, if he were completely honest, he could admit some of their pranks were quite amusing.

If anything, Remus was happy that summer holidays were fast approaching. Remus had never looked forward to going home before.

This wasn’t to say that Remus didn’t like his friends, he very much did. He loved their adventures, learning how not to get caught, discovering new tricks of the castle, and playing innocent pranks. What he did not like was the effect a measly and inconsequential Slytherin arse had on his friends.

Which, it turned out, was something he had in common with Lily Evans, though he tended not to repeat the “inconsequential arse” part to her. So while James, Sirius, and Peter were off messing with Snape and his slowly growing army of slightly-evil wizards, Remus and Lily began what would turn out to be a blossoming friendship.

This worked out in their favor as Remus didn’t have to see his friends slowly becoming people he didn’t recognise, and Lily didn’t have to deal with either an obnoxious James showing off, nor a consistently whining Severus.

They talked of their classes, and home, and being a second year. After a while, they began studying together, much to Severus’ dislike, to which Lily replied, “If you stopped complaining about James Potter for all of ninety seconds, maybe I would study with you instead.”

***

It took Lily less than three months to figure out Remus’ secret. She was good at reading people in that way. And she’d heard Sirius call him, “Moony,” and put the pieces together fairly easily after that.

They were sitting out on the grounds, Lily lying face up on the grass in the sun, Remus with his back against a shady tree playing with the settings on his camera, both completely ignoring the sudden disappearance of their friends and pretending it didn’t bother them, when Lily told him. He reacted slightly better this time around, only feeling the panic grip his heart, but no tears fell this time around. “Is it that easy to tell?” he asked, exasperated.

“Only if you’re clever enough to pay attention.” Lily gave him a kind smile, “Lucky for you everyone else at this school is either immensely stupid or completely oblivious.”

Remus hesitated, fiddling with a loose string on the bottom of his sweater to ease his anxieties. “So… you don’t mind them?”

Lily turned on her side and propped her head up with one arm. “Mind? Of course I don’t mind! It’s not like you could change it.” She lay back down flat, closing her eyes and letting the sun wash over her. Her hair glowed faintly in the setting light. “No, Remus Lupin, I like you just the way you are.”

Remus took a picture.

***

### May, 1973

It was the final weekend in May, which meant the quidditch excitement was once more in full swing. The match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would be specifically entertaining as Ravenclaw was entering the game leading by two hundred and ten points, which meant Gryffindor could win the match and still lose the Quidditch Cup.

Even Lily Evans, who had previously sworn off attending quidditch matches that James Potter was playing in, was planning on going, though she certainly didn’t advertise that fact. She did quietly ask Remus to save her a seat, however, making him swear on his life not to tell his friends.

In Remus’ opinion, James was far more calm than he probably should have been, frequently saying, “Well, I happen to be our best scorer, so if the team can just get the quaffle to me, we’ll make it happen,” but he figured that whatever got him out on the pitch was fine enough, and it was something to think and talk about, other than how pretty Lily Evans was and how the Marauders were next going to get back at Snape.

The match arrived, much to everyone’s excitement, on a warmer day. The stands were still a bit wet from overnight showers, but no one had any intention of sitting anyway. Games that were this exciting meant they’d be on their feet nearly the whole time.

Lily bumped Remus’ shoulder lightly. Sirius bounced down from his seat just above them, “Evans! You made it!”

“And James never needs to know,” she said, eyeing each of the present Marauders in turn, face as cold as ice.

All three held up their hands in surrender. “On my honor.”

Her face brightened immediately. Lily could be intimidating when she wanted, but often chose kindness anyway.

A sudden roar from Ravenclaw’s section caught the group’s attention, signaling the beginning of the game. Gryffindor’s team walked out next, to thunderous applause.

James looked, and felt, like a young god. He was powerful, sun streaming in his face, wind blowing through his messy hair. He looked up to the stands and immediately spotted Lily, cocking his head, smirk growing, and sent her a wink.

She ducked from view, trying and failing to hide behind Peter. “Oh god, he’s never going to let me live this down.”

Sirius straightened her back up and slung an arm around her and Remus’ shoulders, “Nah, we’ll tell him we forced you to come. Good luck and all for the final game.”

She laughed. “He won’t care, but thanks Sirius.”

And with the clear, sharp tone of the whistle, the players kicked off and the game began.

Every second of the game was a tense one. The points were matched, one to one each time. James was doing exceptionally well, as he’d predicted, hogging the quaffle a bit, but scoring nearly all of Gryffindor’s points. Still, everyone was on their toes with the knowledge that Gryffindor needed to be leading by at least seventy points before the snitch was caught for them to take the Quidditch Cup.

“C’mon James, pass the ball,” Sirius muttered under his breath. He could see what James, apparently, could not. There was an open spot for Gryffindor to get a lead, if only James could get over his ego and let someone else score.

Clarity came, as always, in the form of Lily Evans. She had, at first, tried to hide her competitive side, the part of her that had screamed at football matches on television and spiked ping pong balls in basements when she was younger. But the time for competitiveness, if ever at Hogwarts, was then, at the Quidditch Cup Final. “Goddamnit Potter, just pass the quaffle!” She screamed, gaining her some strange looks from McGonagall, but no telling off as the professor likely wanted to shout it herself. No one could tell for sure if James had actually heard her, or just picked up the energy flying his way, but that very moment, he threw the ball to his fellow chaser, and Gryffindor’s lead began.

After that moment, Ravenclaw fell farther and farther behind. They tried to keep up, sending more and more targeted bludgers at James, but he dodged them as his team passed the quaffle around, faster than even the spectators could follow. The snitch appeared a few times, always to loud gasps, but it disappeared nearly as quickly.

Thirty points ahead, forty, fifty, sixty. If the Gryffindor seeker caught the snitch then, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would tie for first—

“Oh—” Lily gasped, squeezing Remus’ hand as James was knocked off his broom by a rogue beater’s bat. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, leg bent under him at an awkward angle.

The shrill sound of the whistle, followed by, “Penalty, Ravenclaw!” Madam Hooch’s voice rang out, magically amplified for the students to hear.

The Gryffindor team speeded down to the grass where James had fallen as Madame Pomfrey hurried onto the field. Their huddle hid him from view, and Peter and Remus exchanged worried glances. But then, to loud cheering from the Gryffindor spectators, James Potter was offered a hand by the captain and got to his feet—well, foot. He was balancing awkwardly, his right leg wrapped in a makeshift magical cast, clearly trying to hide the pain and discomfort.

“Thank Merlin he’s okay,” Peter said, exhaling the breath he’d been holding.

Sirius joked, “Yeah, maybe all the fall did was knock some sense into him.”

“I don’t think so…” Lily began nervously, and all heads turned back to where James was quite animatedly arguing with his captain. The boy with the broken leg snatched the quaffle, got onto his broom, and flew up to the Ravenclaw goalposts.

“And it looks like James Potter, despite his injuries, has elected to take the penalty shot for Gryffindor. If he makes this shot, Gryffindor would be set to win the Quidditch Cup by capturing the snitch.” The announcer's voice echoed around the stadium.

“C’mon James!” Sirius yelled.

Gryffindor began chanting, “Potter! Potter! Potter!”

James tossed the quaffle up a few times, clearly loving the attention. Even from the stands anyone could see the winning smile that shone from his lips.

But it disappeared as soon as the whistle blew again. He was off, head down, broken leg tucked underneath his broom, quaffle held safely under his left arm. In one, powerful, spectacular throw, James Potter scored the point that put Gryffindor in the running for the Quidditch Cup.

The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping, hardly even noticing as the game went back to normal. James took his victory lap, sending one final winning smile at his friends in the mass of Gryffindor supporters. It wasn’t long before—

“And Oliveroot has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!”

James Potter was on top of the world. Gryffindors everywhere chanted his name, even lifting him above their heads in the common room when he got back from the hospital wing. The party lasted all evening, with music loud enough for him to momentarily forget the pain his fall had caused. Lily Evans had even given him a hug and said that she was “glad he wasn’t hurt worse.”

James thought he was going to melt.

***

### July, 1973

Sirius thought he was going to crumble.

When Sirius came home, he’d expected his mother to be yelling, his father to be silent in disappointment. Just like last year. What he hadn’t expected was, while on his climb up to his room, shaking his head, doglike, as if that would remove the tears, and erase all his memories from downstairs, for his brother to run to his door, just as he had last summer, but instead of opening it further to talk, he'd slam it in Sirius’ face. Yet that was exactly what Regulus did.

He had only just turned eleven. He would be going to Hogwarts the following year.

Sirius didn’t know what he had done wrong. Only last year Regulus had seemed quiet, reserved, yes, but still kind hearted and loving to his brother. This summer, the only words they exchanged were solemn greetings when they passed in the hallways and Regulus couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard.

The silence broke Sirius’ heart. He slid letters under Regulus’ door, with penciled in smiley faces and messages like “wanna go play quidditch with me?” and “hey, can we talk?” but to no avail. As he walked away, Sirius heard the faint sound of paper ripping.

***

Remus stared down at the now-worn-in pair of blue jeans in his trunk, a size too large for him. _Sirius’._

He must have slipped them into Remus’ trunk while they were packing. Remus only then remembered the half joke, half pact they had made in the beginning of the previous year.

He’d forgotten to give Sirius his sweater.

He slipped it on for safe keeping, despite the exhaustive, sweltering heat. He didn’t know why, but he looked up, clutching the soft sleeves in his fists, and whispered, “Sorry.”

***


	8. September and November, 1973

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus Black gets sorted. Remus makes a startling discovery about himself. Lily and Remus break the silence about their friends.

## Year 3

### September, 1973

September first couldn’t have come soon enough for Sirius. While his friends were sent off by their parents in teary hugs, Sirius stood more gloomy and lonely than ever. His brother had boarded the Hogwarts Express without a second glance behind, leaving Sirius on the platform alone to wait for his friends. At least this year he’d managed to keep his hair after his mother had determined he was a lost cause, and it was better for the wizarding world to just see less of him, than to try and collect and repair his image. So another summer without his friends came and went, this one with the added bonus of rarely being allowed out of the house he had already grown to despise.

He was disappointed to see that both James and Remus were quickly approaching his height. He did _not_ want to become the short friend.

The boys boarded and settled in as usual. Pretty quickly, however, it was noticeable that a few things had changed. Remus looked more tired than ever, curling up in the corner and napping halfway through the trip. Sirius wasn’t much for conversation yet, still recovering from a very silent and very painful summer break. James and Peter tried to keep the energy going, discussing their own, very nice and happy and loving holidays, but the conversation died down after a while, and the two resorted to playing exploding snap.

The feast began quietly as well, until the Sorting Ceremony began as the first years flooded into the Great Hall. Sirius tried to catch his brother’s eye as he came in, but no luck. He couldn’t tell if Regulus was still avoiding him or simply couldn’t find him in the mass of Gryffindors at the table.

He got his answer when “Black, Regulus,” was called, and while sitting on the chair, in front of the whole school, his brother looked him straight in the eye, mumbling something under his breath. The hat broke the silence, shouting, “Slytherin!”

“No,” was all Sirius could manage, too quiet for even his friends to hear. His stomach clenched uncomfortably. They all turned to look at him, but he could only stand to watch as his baby brother walked across the hall, getting farther and farther away from him, until he disappeared behind a wall of green robes.

Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand under the table as Sirius made to stand. “Sirius, not now, okay?” His tone was soft and caring. It wasn’t enough.

Nothing could be enough.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Sirius’ mind was reeling. His brother was in Slytherin. It wasn’t _right_. He was a good kid, Sirius knew that deep in his heart.

“He’s a good kid.” His voice broke.

Remus gave his hand a squeeze, “I know that Sirius.”

“They’re gonna eat him alive.” Sirius’ whole body was shaking. His leg was bouncing with nervous energy, making the drinks on the table slosh side to side.

“He’s going to be okay, Sirius. He’s still got you.”

_But does he want me?_

It was a terrible beginning to what he was hoping would be a good year. Another ten months away from his family, another ten months with his best friends. And now his brother was in Slytherin.

It took Sirius a few days to track down his brother. While his friends were preparing for their third year lessons, Sirius spent the hours wandering the halls in the dungeons by the Slytherin common room, waiting for Regulus to come out. Remus had offered to come with him once (“for moral support,” he’d said) but Sirius declined. He wanted to do this alone. He had to do this alone.

It was nearing the end of the first week when Sirius finally managed to find Regulus, who was staying late in Professor Slughorn’s class. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into an empty classroom.

“What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

Regulus seemed puzzled, and quite unhappy with how roughly he’d been dragged. “What’re you talking about?”

“Avoiding me all summer, now the Slytherin thing. What’s up with you?”

“The Slytherin thing? You mean getting sorted? News flash, you can’t decide which house you get in.” Regulus was getting angrier and angrier by the second.

“Oh you know just as well as I do that you asked to be put in Slytherin. Didn’t living with mum and dad ever teach you anything? They’re all evil, Regulus. All of ‘em!”

Regulus took a step back from his brother. “Every single one?” A pause. His voice was so small. He was still so young. “Even me?”

Sirius stuttered, “Of course not—you’re different, you’re not supposed to be—”

Regulus finished for him, “Not supposed to be in Slytherin. Well I got some news for you, I am. You’re just as bad as they are. Maybe even worse! At least they all know they’re being prejudiced. You just think you’re better than Slytherins ‘cause you’re sad mum always liked me better. If you'd ever even tried to do what was expected of you...”

Sirius felt like his throat was closing up.

“You chose your path, now I’m choosing mine. Do me a favor and don’t talk to me again, I can’t be seen with some lowly fucking Gryffindor.”

And with that, Regulus walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. And Sirius collapsed.

***

It became significantly harder for Sirius to focus in class. Not that he was the best of students on most occasions, but most of the time he could scrape by with a passing grade, relying purely on natural talent. This year, there were notes saying, “Please meet me after class!” on each of his tests, and he’d torn them up before he even left the classroom.

It got so bad, Remus even offered to just do his homework, realizing that some credit was better than nothing. He also asked if Sirius wanted a tutor, or to have some study sessions, but of course Sirius declined.

Even worse, Sirius seemed to take his anger out on Snape. His ideas for tricks became crueler, more public, more humiliating. Gone were the days of simple insults—and Remus was nearly convinced Sirius was out for blood.

His mood swings were the worst part of it. One moment, Sirius would be on top of the world, laughing and drinking butterbeer with his friends in The Three Broomsticks, and the next they’d have to restrain him from hexing a stray group of Slytherins under the table.

To make matters worse, Remus couldn’t stop thinking about Sirius. At first he had justified it as intense worry, just looking out for a friend who was very clearly not doing well, but soon enough he realized it ran a bit deeper than that.

Remus had always known he was queer. It was just another one of those things he knew about himself that he didn’t share with other people. Not that he thought people would take it poorly, but most people back home were too afraid to even go near him, and he didn’t exactly have all that many romantic prospects lined up at Hogwarts, so he’d figured it would just be a problem for another day.

Turns out that September 23rd, 1973 was that day. Remus lay stretched out across the cozy fireside couch in the Gryffindor common room, reading his Arithmancy textbook quietly with Lily sitting on the arm chair across from him. James was at quidditch practice, readying himself for another exciting season after last year’s victory. Peter was Merlin knows where, likely either watching James train or in the library, as his parents had given him a stern talking-to over the summer about his grades and study habits. They had not liked when he’d told them nearly all his friends were in the same spot academically.

Then, without a second's warning, Sirius flipped himself over the back of the couch and landed face up, lying right between Remus’ legs. He leaned himself back, head resting on Remus’ chest, wiggling his head between Remus’ arms so he could read the book. He flitted his eyes upward, showing off his long lashes and stormy grey eyes.

Remus felt his heart rate accelerate to about a hundred beats per second. Sirius was in one of his bordering-on-mania moments, over the moon with enjoyment at each and every little thing. Remus’ breath caught in his throat. As if to taunt him, Sirius turned on his side and snuggled into Remus’ arm, holding tight and shutting his eyes. He was warm, and his skin was soft, and Remus thought his heart was going to explode out of his chest.

Remus shot Lily a bewildered expression, as if to say _I know you know I like him, now what the fuck do I do in this situation?_

All she could do was stifle a laugh and shrug. Lily Evans, in all her infinite wisdom, had just as much dating experience as Remus. That is to say, none at all.

The problem quickly solved itself when Sirius turned back over, peered up at the text for about three seconds, then reached up and closed the book, setting it aside. “That was boring. We should do something more exciting.”

“Sirius, I have to study. You know I have a big test coming up—” Remus protested.

“Big test? But the semester’s only just begun! You’ll make up for one bad test grade in no time. Now c’mon—” he rolled off the couch and landed gracefully on his feet, extending an arm to help Remus up.

Remus considered for a moment, then grabbed hold of Sirius’ hand. In the swell of young crushes, what else could he possibly do?

***

### November, 1973

It took a while for Remus and Lily to start talking about their friends. At first, it had seemed her company was the only escape Remus had from his friends talking about 'getting revenge' against Snape and the Slytherins. It was only when that genuinely became true, when the boys spent all their time—in classes, on weekends, over late nights—discussing vengeance that Remus felt he had to say something.

The pair sat in the library, at the table that had become uniquely theirs—every Thursday night at six. Stacks of textbooks for their shared classes—Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the like—spread open wide, covered nearly every exposed inch of the hardwood table.

Remus set down his quill, lifting Lily's attention from where she'd been hunched over a half-scribbled out essay. “They’re worrying me.” Lily didn’t have to ask, she already knew, of course, to whom Remus was referring.

“Yeah. Sev too.” She paused. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s hanging out with the wrong sort of people. You know, those older friends he’s got.”

Remus nodded, but didn’t say anything. He, of course, did know the friends she was referring to, and, after quite a few dangerous interactions with them, very much thought they were the wrong sort of people. Besides his own personal experience, he’d heard the rumors of what they were willing to do, and what they wanted to achieve. The still, empty quiet gave way to an anxious pause.

Finally he spoke, shifting in his seat as if it would ease the discomfort in his mind. “Sometimes I wonder if it’ll ever stop. How far are they willing to go? Where do we draw the line?” It scared him to give a voice to his concerns. It made them real—actual problems he had to consider and try to solve, when he could just ignore them.

He’d never had good enough friends to worry when things went wrong. It was far too often he had been the problem, he didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t.

“I don’t know. Worst of all, I don’t think our definition of too far is going to match theirs.” With that, silence fell. They both knew it was true. There was nothing else to say on the matter. Lily leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder lightly.

“I think we’ll be okay,” she said, quietly.

He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You really think so?”

She nodded into his neck, “Yeah, I do. And if all else goes to shit, at least I’ve got you.”

***


	9. December, 1973 and January, 1974

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders go home with James for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who have read the novel, The Princess Bride by William Goldman, yes I am aware that it is different from the movie, and not exactly appropriate for thirteen year-olds. Please disregard the actual plot and imagine the book as the story within a story described in the 1987 movie adaptation (aka the fictional novel by S. Morgenstern).
> 
> For those of you who have only seen the movie, or haven't seen/read either, you're in the clear, it's not a very important detail.

### December, 1973

For the first time in the Marauders' time at Hogwarts, the full moon was nowhere near Christmas. So, when James offered to bring the boys over to his house for the holidays, Remus jumped at the chance.

He’d never been to James’ house, though he’d heard more stories about it than he could count. According to Peter it was huge, and very very nice. James’ had once said there was a full sized quidditch pitch in the backyard, but Remus’ was ninety percent sure that had been a lie to impress Lily.

Sirius had been sulking the day before they left, to no one’s surprise. His constant mood-switching had become a well known occurrence—James and Peter had learned to mostly ignore it. Remus just couldn’t bring himself not to try, so he pulled the shaggy haired boy aside after class and asked him what was wrong.

“I dunno. A lot,” was all he was given.

“Is it about the holidays?” Remus pressed, trying to get _something_ out of his friend.

“Yeah, kinda.” There was a pause. “I dunno, I sorta liked our holidays at school. And I hate the idea of Regulus going home to be with my parents all alone, but I just can’t bring myself to go back there with him.”

Remus tried to console him with stumbling kind words, but there was really no use. The survivor's guilt of managing to evade his parents for another Christmas while watching his little brother suffer was nothing that could be fixed by a thirteen year old.

Lucky for Remus and his friends, very few young hearts could completely ignore the magic and excitement of spending Christmas with one’s very best friends, and Sirius was not one of those hearts.

The four boys arrived at the Potter’s House, each enamored with something different. Peter smiled at the scent of a home cooked meal, and the sight of familiar couches—as he and James lived quite close to one another and visited each other fairly often. Remus was quite frankly shocked at the sheer size of the place, and the wealth of goods simply lying about. His family wasn’t poor, per say, but constantly replacing items after Remus grew out of them, or more likely, ripped up while transforming, did create a bit more financial stress than the Potters had to manage.

Sirius’ astonishment began well before the other boys. It came in the form of Mr. Potter picking them up from the train platform, smiling and cheerily asking how the start to their third year had been. His shock only grew when Mrs. Potter gave each boy a big hug and told them to run along upstairs, and that she would call them for dinner. He had known the Potters were a fairly wealthy family, that came as no surprise. But, Sirius couldn’t grasp the concept that a pureblood family with a well known and respected name acted in such a manner. He fell in love immediately.

The boys spoiled James with compliments on the way up the stairs and for once he seemed to take them sheepishly.

“Whoa, James, _this_ is your new room?” Peter exclaimed, staring around at the massive space. He hadn’t visited since James had moved upstairs.

The walls were spotted with moving posters—quidditch players in clean, bright jerseys whizzed between the various frames. A large bed was tucked up against a side wall, framed by the vaulted ceiling and beside high stacked piles of games and a large jar of sweets. A few sleek brooms were delicately hung above the headboard, with names that confused Remus but seemed to impress Sirius.

“Well, technically it’s the attic, but yeah I sleep here now. Kinda doubles as a game room, makes it wicked for sleepovers.”

Their eyes fell upon the three cozy-looking cots lined up against a separate wall and each rushed to drop their things, playfully shoving one another to get the best one.

The Marauders spent the rest of the night playing games and wrestling and talking—instantly relieving nearly all the stress that had followed them from school. Mrs. Potter received countless praise for her home cooked meal as each boy got up for seconds.

Sirius still couldn’t believe the sight in front of his eyes. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were so in love, it made Sirius doubt his parents even liked each other—instead being bound by mutual hate. The pair kissed lovingly when Mr. Potter came home from work and he smiled when she hugged him and complimented her meals. They had countless pictures of them together, dancing in front of a fountain and embracing by the sea. They even had coasters made of the newspaper on the day they were married. Sirius wondered what it would be like, to be raised by parents who loved each other this much. He couldn't even imagine the two of them fighting. And how they adored James too, their only son, their golden boy. In their eyes, he could do no wrong. Sirius wished he knew how that felt.

Christmas Eve brought the first heavy snow of the season, creating perfect weather for a massive snowball fight. The Marauders layered up in their warmest clothes and headed out into the chill. The cold couldn't seem to penetrate their happiness, however, as the day was spent building snow fortresses and battling—Remus and Sirius versus James and Peter—until the sun began to set and Mrs. Potter called them in for some tea and hot chocolate.

Remus sat cross-legged by the fire, still shivering a bit from the cold, curled up with a book. James and Peter went upstairs to take a pre-supper nap, exhausted from the nonstop playing.

“Here, Rem,” Sirius sat down beside him, handing him a second mug. His cheeks were still rosy from their time outside. When Remus gave him a questioning look, Sirius explained, “Well, I know how much you like the stuff since you drink it all the time, so I figured you could have mine.” He offered it again.

Remus took it with a smile. He paused, took a sip, and then, “Rem?”

“Just something I’m trying out. I dunno how I feel about it just yet.”

The butterflies fluttering frantically in Remus’ stomach were begging him to say _I love it. Say it again. Please._

The boys sat in silence for a bit until Sirius spoke again, “What’re you reading?”

Remus put down his book, showing his friend the cover. “It’s called The Princess Bride.”

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” He asked, tone heavily judgemental.

Remus blushed scarlet, “It’s actually a pretty good story!” he insisted.

“No, no, I believe you.” Sirius said with a chuckle, very clearly not believing him.

“It is! Just give it a try, c’mon.”

Sirius leaned back on his elbows, stretching out, sock-covered toes wiggling by the warm fire. “I don’t read—how am I supposed to be a disgrace to the Black family name and read? And,” he added, sitting up and pointing a knowing finger, “I certainly don’t read books called ‘The Princess Bride.’”

“Don’t be so stubborn. Try it.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “No.”

“Just give it a chance!”

This went on for quite some time, until Sirius finally gave in, Remus’ strong will paying off for something. “Fine.”

“Ha!” Remus celebrated.

“But,” Sirius began, laying his head in Remus’ lap, hands gently clasped over his stomach, “only if you read it to me.” He closed his eyes and waited.

And there it was again, the accelerating heart rate, the cheeks flushing, his palms getting sweaty—Remus was glad Sirius had his eyes shut. He hoped his panic wasn’t nearly as evident as he feared it was. His pulse was loud in his ears. He felt his mouth run dry and his tongue felt as if it was taking up the entirety of his mouth. Remus shut his eyes, took a deep breath, silently wishing his pulse to slow. He slurred and stuttered when he was nervous and the last time he wanted that to happen was in front of Sirius. He opened the book to the first page, and so he began, “Chapter One…”

He stuttered a bit in the beginning, having to repeat a few words, and pause, collecting himself. Sirius didn’t seem to mind, and his eyes stayed shut so he couldn’t see the way Remus’ face burned with every verbal misstep.

After a while, though, he settled into a steady rhythm, matching the casual in and out of Sirius’ breaths. It was quite a sight to take in, the beautiful boy stretched out, calm—soothed by the sounds of his own voice. Remus had never loved his own voice as much as he did just then. He would have kept reading forever if it meant he could live in that moment.

Remus hadn’t realized it was nearly dinner time until he heard the thunderous footsteps of James and Peter, awakened from their slumber. Suddenly and without warning, he shifted his legs, causing Sirius’ head to hit the hard wood beneath.

The long-haired boy instinctively reached up to cradle his head, “Fuck, Rem, what was that for?” He hadn’t heard the ruckus yet.

But it was at that moment that James and Peter came bounding into the room. “Hey, guys supper’s ready—Sirius what happened?”

“Oh he just slipped and hit his head,” Remus scrambled to get out before Sirius could speak. Sirius flashed him a strange look but didn’t contradict him.

“Alright,” James shrugged with disinterest, already having moved on in his head, “Now let’s go before my mum gets mad.”

Neither Remus nor Sirius could imagine Mrs. Potter getting genuinely angry, but they followed anyway. Sirius tried to catch Remus’ eye, to ask _seriously, what was that about?_ but Remus couldn’t meet his gaze for the rest of the night.

Christmas Eve at the Potters came with a special tradition, choosing and opening a single present from under the tree. The boys were shocked to find that it wasn’t only James who had gifts, however. Each one of them had a well wrapped present from Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

“We didn’t want you boys to be left out during our traditions! We hope you like them,” said Mrs. Potter with a cheery smile. Sirius couldn’t imagine a kinder person in the world.

***

Remus hadn’t meant to see Sirius’ scars. It had never occurred to him that the boy always changed behind the curtains of his bed, as Remus often did the same—trying to hide his own scratches and marks.

But there were no curtains at the Potters’ house. The Marauders had spent a long night talking and laughing and wrestling, but it was dark, and the other boys were fast asleep. Remus could hear their steady pulses and the slow breaths that were virtually silent to anyone without werewolf super-hearing.

Sirius however, was still up. Remus was awake as well, regretting his last cup of tea—the caffeine making it difficult to settle. The room was practically pitch dark, not that that meant much to Remus. He saw it clearly when Sirius slipped out of his bed and pulled on his pajamas. He hadn’t even realized Sirius hadn’t changed yet.

When Sirius had turned around, Remus had to stifle a gasp. He shut his eyes and pretended to be sleeping, hoping his inhale could be mistaken as a snore.

Etched behind his eyelids were the criss crossed, perfectly white lines that spread across Sirius’ small back. Remus knew scars well, and these were long, created with precision.

By the time he dared to open his eyes, just a millimeter, Sirius had already tucked himself under the covers.

Remus’ heart beat through his entire body.

_What could have created such scars? Why had Sirius never mentioned it?_

He wanted to ask, he wanted to know so badly, but he remembered how much pain was brought back when people asked him about his own wounds. At least his looked healed. Still, Remus kept the image in the back of his mind. Though his stomach turned at the thought, it was oddly comforting that they had something else in common.

***

### January, 1974

It was the last night at the Potter’s house that Sirius realized just how little he knew.

Sirius didn’t know why James and Peter felt like brothers, but Remus felt like home. Not 12 Grimmauld Place—as that would never truly be his home—but home as in the leftover warmth of burning embers after a long night by the fireplace. Home as in the excitement that came with the first morning of snow. Home as in safe. Home as in happy. _Home_.

Sirius didn’t know why that scared him so much. After all, he was only recently fourteen years old, and quite frankly had the emotional range, and perception, of a teaspoon. So, the slim amount of complex emotions he could both feel, and perceive, he couldn’t completely identify.

It didn’t help that his mind kept wandering to his brother, wondering what horrors were occurring to Regulus while Sirius lay in a comfortable bed, being smothered with more kindness than his parents had ever shown him.

Sirius didn’t know if he wanted home. More so, Sirius didn’t know if he deserved home. There was something about almost never being shown so much kindness that made him want to avoid it. Friends were different. Brothers were different. But Remus…

So, in the spirit of simplicity, Sirius decided he didn’t know. And he wouldn’t know.

But he kept following the little voice in his head that whispered constantly. On the train back to Hogwarts, _Lean up against him. Rest your head on his shoulder._ In the common room, _Move your chair closer to his._

And it made him happy, at least in the moment.

When Sirius got back to Hogwarts, he wanted to talk to his brother. He wanted to check in on him and ask how the holidays were, even though he knew they were shit. He wanted to make sure his little brother was okay, even though he knew he wasn’t.

But Regulus was making it quite obvious that this wasn’t what he wanted. He avoided his brother’s eyes in the corridors, took the long route to class simply because he knew Sirius had a class along the way, even sat facing away from him at breakfast.

Remus caught Sirius staring at the back of his brother’s head often, but he had enough on his mind with the upcoming full moon. Sirius had dodged his help so often, Remus was starting to give up, even though he didn’t really want to.

When he explained this to Lily, she took his hand softly in hers. “You’re tired. The full moon’s coming up and you have enough on your own plate without worrying about your friends that don’t even accept your help.”

So Remus did. He’d soon come to regret that.

***


	10. April, June, July, and August 1974

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mudblood Scene. Sirius confronts Regulus; things go south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that snippets from the original scene, written by JKR, have been included, though there are minor tweaks. I do not intend to pass such sections off as my own work, and as I never will earn any significant recognition, let alone money, from this work, I have no problem including them.
> 
> cw: brief, vague descriptions of unhealthy behavior/coping mechanisms, could be inferred as depression/suicidal tendencies

### April, 1974

It was the sunniest weekend in April when most of the students found themselves scattered on the grounds outside. Everyone was excited for the end of the season of snow and ready for some warmth. It was still far enough away from final exams for everyone to justify spending an entire day outside instead of doing any work.

The Marauders were climbing up a hill to the tree they usually sat underneath, when they found an unexpected guest. “ _Snivellus_.” James sneered. The black haired boy under the tree was sitting alone, deep in a Potions book and had yet to notice them. “Hey Moony, watch this,” said James, just loud enough to alert Severus to their presence.

Snape reached for his wand but Sirius disarmed him before he got the chance. In an instant, Severus was hanging upside down from a branch of the tree. Sirius remarked, “Nice one, James,” and Remus saw a shadow cast over James’ eyes. A crowd had formed, drawn by the disruption. Sirius barely noticed that his brother was amongst the onlookers.

“Now, who wants to see me take off Snivellus’ trousers?” James asked the crowd. His weakness had always been fame and attention, and he was getting drunk on it. He reached to cast the spell when-

“Let him down, James.” Lily’s tone was sharp and unforgiving. Her arms were crossed and her expression was cold. “For once in your life, don't be a prat.”

But James wasn’t yet ready to give up the spotlight. “Alright, Evans. Whatever you say.”

“James, I’m serious—”

He snorted but didn’t budge.

“Leave him alone!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

“Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you,” said James earnestly, casting a sly look at his friends.

“Take the curse off him, then!” she demanded.

James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse.

“There you go,” he said, as Snape struggled to his feet. “You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus –”

“I don’t need help from filthy little _Mudbloods_ like her!”

His voice was cold and sharp and unforgiving. He sounded so unlike the sad young boy who had sat beside Lily under the willow tree all those years ago. That boy wouldn’t have dared to say something so foul, to someone he so cared for. That boy was as good as dead. Snape’s words echoed all around the crowd as each person took a moment to absorb what he had said.

For a split second, everything went silent. Lily froze, rooted to the spot, feeling like she was going to be sick. She blinked.

James and Remus jumped into action. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Sirius made eye contact with Regulus, who was smiling, as if the whole thing was funny. It made Sirius want to murder Snape right there, in front of everyone.

“Apologise to Evans!” James continued, roaring at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at his throat.

But Lily was done. “I don’t want you to make him apologise,” Lily shouted, rounding on James. “You’re as bad as he is.”

“What?” yelped James. “I’d _never_ call you a – _you-know-what_!”

“Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me sick.”

She turned on her heel and walked away coolly, refusing to let Severus see her cry.

“Evans!” James shouted after her. “Hey, Evans!”

But she didn’t look back.

And then, when she was just out of sight, Lily took off. She ran faster and farther than she thought she could. She ran straight up from the grounds to Gryffindor tower. Remus followed. James and Sirius tried to, but he shooed them off, knowing what Lily least wanted was to be bombarded with the idiot third year boys who’d gotten her into the instance in the first place. His parting words were, “Give him hell for me.”

Remus found Lily in a dark corner of the Gryffindor common room that he, himself, had become all too familiar with. He didn’t say a word, and she crashed right into him, her head resting on his shoulder like it would fall off without him. All he could do was hold her.

He’d known her fears about Severus hanging out with the wrong crowd. Her fears that the boy she had met all those years ago had dissolved into a blood-purist prat who only cared for his own status and well being. What could he say when her worst fears were actualized by way of being called a foul slur in public? All he could do was hold her.

The next day, Snape was at breakfast with a dark black eye and a deep cut over his cheekbone. Remus wasn’t absolutely sure, but he thought he was hiding a limp as well. James and Sirius had nightly detentions for the next week and a half. Remus didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know.

***

### June, 1974

The next few months passed quickly with quidditch, classes ramping up, and personal troubles taking up most of the Marauders’ time. They continued to torment Snape, and his Slytherin friends continued to retaliate. The hexes became more violent after _the_ _incident_. Lily stayed out of it. She and Remus spent more and more time together, avoiding those who used to be their friends as they melted away into the rivalry.

Remus continued to be “ill” every month, and Severus was coming closer and closer to pinning down why. He would taunt the boys, asking them where they all went when they snuck out on the grounds, as they had gained a habit of sneaking out to sit outside the Shrieking Shack until Remus forced them to leave when he knew the transformation was coming. He knew they said they didn’t care, but he didn’t want them seeing him like that. Sirius always wanted to stay, but Peter, the only one left with even a little bit of sense, knew it was too dangerous and always managed to drag them away before anything bad happened.

Sirius had his manic episodes, and days when Remus could barely stand to leave his side for fear of what he might do—to himself, to others. And there were countless days in between that faded together easily, spilling into a mess of grey.

This day happened to be June 4th, 1974. And it was a bad day.

Sirius was fed up. He was tired of avoiding his brother and his brother avoiding him. He was worried, and he was sad, and he was exhausted. He didn’t want to study and he definitely didn’t want to go back home.

So, at long last, Sirius went and found his brother again. The boy was sitting outside with a few friends around, Slytherins that Sirius couldn’t recognise, watching the sun go down. His face darkened when he realized it was his brother coming at him. It was the longest they’d gone without speaking.

“Let’s talk.” It wasn’t a question. Regulus gave his friends an exasperated look, and muttered an apology and followed his older brother to a more private area.

“I don’t wanna talk. You ever consider that?” Regulus sneered.

“Well I want to talk. You haven’t spoken to me in months and I still don’t know what the fuck I did.” Sirius practically spat.

Regulus saw red. “What you did? You don’t know what you did? You went off and you left me with them and you had the audacity to be placed in Gryffindor, making friends with those idiots who care nothing about blood purity. You didn’t have to be home to suffer the consequences. Well guess who did.” He was livid. “You never even wrote home! Not once, all year.” His voice was breaking but he just put more power into it, nearly screaming. “You abandoned me. You never even cared enough to check in, make sure I was okay. You know how they can be.” Sirius cringed but Regulus wasn’t done. “Then, when I finally get to school and find my own place, my own people, you tell me they’re wrong, they’re bad, they’re evil. We’re eleven, Sirius!” He took in a deep breath, muttering, “Mum was right, you only ever think of yourself.”

Sirius stuttered, trying to make sense of all that had been laid in front of him. But his brother was gone before he could even finish a sentence.

And then he was angry. Really angry. Anger seemed to be his default response those days. Maybe someday he would relive the argument in his head and see that his brother was making much more sense than he thought in the moment, but Sirius didn’t have the energy for that. There was only emptiness or rage.

So, on the way back to the common room, when Sirius happened to bump into his least favorite person, something snapped.

Severus hit his shoulder and jeered, “Tell your little boyfriend I’ve figured out why he gets sick every month, like clockwork. And soon enough I’ll know where you and those idiots sneak off to at night as well.”

Sirius didn’t stop to think. “Listen _Snivellus_ , if you really wanna know what’s going on, hit the knot on the Whomping Willow at eleven tonight. Follow the path and see where we go. Oh,” Sirius grabbed him by the shirt collar, squeezing as hard as he could—so tight Severus began choking—“and stay the fuck away from my brother with your blood purity bullshit.” 

By the time Severus was able to breathe again, Sirius was gone.

Sirius didn’t ponder his actions. He didn’t think of consequences, nor the actual reality of what might happen, should Snape take his advice. All he knew was he wanted to rid himself of some of the anger that burned like a raging fire, consuming any rational thought, and give Snape a good scare, and this prank seemed like a good enough combination. The less he thought about it, the funnier it became.

“Hey James,” Sirius said, looking smug and practically sauntering into the room. He looked over his friends as their eyes all turned up to him. “Guess what I just did.”

“Finally snogged Marleen McKinnon?” James asked with vague curiosity.

“What? No.” Sirius said, taken aback.

“I see the way she looks at you…” James wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Anyways,” Sirius plopped down on his own bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, a snide smile spreading on his face. “I just told Snivellus to press the Whomping Willow knot in an hour. Finally, he'll get what he wants, a taste of the action—”

All the boys sprang into action. “You did WHAT?!” Remus shouted, his pulse instantly racing.

“Ah, c’mon Moony,” Sirius began.

“Fucking hell Sirius, is this the time for that?” James practically bellowed.

The weight of his actions finally dawned on Sirius. Much too little, far too late.

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey knocked and entered, ready to escort Remus down to the Shrieking Shack.

Remus was stuck on his bed, his head feeling like it was going a million miles per hour and also not moving at all. All he could do was shoot a nervous glance at James.

It was James who saved the day that time. “Remus, you go. I’ll handle this.” He looked him dead in the eye, expression more serious than Remus had ever seen it, “ _I promise_.” James twisted around, shooting daggers at Sirius, who was beginning to get to his feet. “You stay. You’ve done enough damage tonight.”

Remus was nervous out of his mind but didn’t see what good he could do—staying would only mean he would transform in the dormitory, which could only be worse. Still, he couldn’t help thinking what would happen if James didn’t get to Severus quick enough.

Once he was alone, he sat in the cold, dark, broken house, pulling his hair out, tugging at stitches in his sweater, and sobbing. He was restless. His fists banged on the walls and the floors and even once on his bad knee, which he immediately regretted, crying out in pain. He kicked and screamed and shook, all before the familiar, painful stretching sensation had even begun. He wondered if the wolf would be angry, anxious, terrified as well. His breath came out in ragged dry heaves as he tried to ration with himself. There was nothing he could do. _There was nothing he could do._

He’d always known it would happen some time. He’d thought up countless scenarios in which he ended up hurting someone; he’d get out of control and no one would be able to stop him, or he’d become unhinged and hunt with intent, like the maniac who’d doomed him to this fate. Never in his most terrible nightmares had he imagined it would be one of his closest friends who would put someone in his way, purposefully use him as a weapon… 

When Remus woke up in the hospital wing the next morning, there were still tears streaming down his face. Madame Pomfrey was standing over him with an anxious expression, tending to something that he couldn’t yet feel. Everything felt numb. Nothing mattered as much as knowing, “Did I—”

“Severus is okay,” she reassured him. The tightness in his stomach eased, if only slightly. She looked down on him with pity. “You however, are going to need to stay in here much longer than you’re used to.”

Suddenly the stinging became more and more apparent. His face felt like it was on fire. He sat up and bolted to the nearest mirror before Madame Pomfrey could stop him.

And he froze in horror. A long, disgusting, dark red gash covered nearly his whole face, cutting from his left eyebrow to just past the right corner of his lips. And Remus broke down in tears again. He nearly collapsed on the floor, but thankfully Madame Pomfrey was there, soothing voice and strong arms, to carry him back to the hospital bed.

He'd only just stopped crying when, about an hour later, Sirius burst into the room.

“Remus, I am so sorry—” the long-haired boy stopped short as the breath escaped his lungs. “Blimey, are you okay?”

Remus wasn’t there to play along. He was furious. His voice was hoarse from sobbing. He spat, “As if you fucking care. What the fuck were you thinking Sirius? You wanted to play a prank, I get it, but this wasn’t just some stupid joke. He could have gotten hurt—I could have _killed_ him! Did you ever stop to think about how that would make me feel?” Sirius opened his mouth and closed it again. “You fucking know how much I hate transformations and how fucking terrified I am all the time that I’m going to hurt someone—to intentionally put someone—I DON’T CARE IF IT WAS SNIVELLUS!” Remus snapped, watching Sirius begin an excuse. “To intentionally put someone in harms way, to use me like a fucking fear tactic all so you could get a little show of watching Severus getting scared…” Remus took a shaky breath, feeling the now familiar tears coming back once more. His voice was clear for one more word, low and dark and stern. “Go.”

Sirius didn’t need to be told twice. He was all too familiar with the type of anger that would burn for nights on end, that would fester and sting, that couldn’t be solved with a simple apology, or even two or three. The kind that seemed almost unfixable. He left without another word. And Remus collapsed. Alone.

***

### July, 1974

Remus felt his throat closing up. He’d come home to his parents' (very well intentioned) gift, a photo album. Not just any old photo album, but one filled with the polaroids he had taken during his second year.

The many, many pictures of Sirius. His countless goofy smiles, and the way his hair fell in front of his face and how he’d pull it back, just for it to fall back once more, and those stupid jeans that he’d gotten from Remus that he wore all the damn time.

He’d thanked his parents, as it was the right thing to do, and then promptly shoved the album and his camera under his bed. He never wanted to see them again.

***

It was the worst summer of Sirius’ life. His brother wasn’t talking to him. His mother seemed to despise him more with every passing day, expressing it in a loud rage that only brought back memories of Remus’ outburst. His father was more for silent judgement, an inescapable eye on his back wherever he went, which was never far.

And in the dark, he couldn’t stop the echoes. _Did you ever stop to think about how that would make me feel… to use me like a fucking fear tactic._

And he hated himself.

His only solace was his family’s library. The room was far too large and far too dark, filled with countless books with terrifying information—dark curses and nasty hexes that couldn’t be undone—but in it, Sirius could stay hidden away. And he began to read sun up and sun down because when he stopped, the panic returned. The shame returned. The self hatred that cut like a knife and made Sirius want to give it all up— _everything_ —returned.

He stayed up too late and woke up too early. He didn’t care about sleep, or eating, or doing much of anything except finding something that could fix this.

***

### August, 1974

August 31st. He found it.

And for the first time all summer, Sirius Black breathed a sigh of relief.

***


	11. September, November, and December, 1974

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders return to Hogwarts, fragmented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: brief allusions to familial trauma/unhealthy family situations

## Year 4

### September, 1974

It was the first year the Marauders didn’t sit together on the train. Remus had climbed on early, grabbed a seat with Lily, and promptly closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. Lily’s friends didn’t seem to mind enough to say anything. They knew how he’d comforted her after Severus turned out to be a blood-purist git, so he was fine in their books. Especially tucked away, asleep and unintrusive.

The scar across his face was still healing. At the end of the last year, he hadn’t attended any of his classes after the incident on account of his ‘illness.’ His professors brought his work to the hospital wing and didn’t ask questions; they knew all they had to. No one else saw the scar.

They would this year. Remus had spent the summer worrying about the questions, the stares, the faces people made when they noticed. It was almost enough to make him not want to go back. He thought about it almost as much as he was haunted by the prank. Hogwarts was nothing without his friends, but sometimes being home was worse than nothing. Being home meant the chains in the basement, being home meant the kids who ran away screaming if he tried to sit in the park. So he came back.

Meanwhile, Sirius, James, and Peter sat in another compartment in silence. They had tried small talk, but it just wasn’t the same. Sirius had deep bags under his eyes, and his hair was shaggy and unkempt. So different from the sharp, sleek boy who’d traveled on the very same train only three years prior.

Finally, he broke the silence. His voice faltered with every word, “I think—I think I found something. That could maybe, uh, solve this.” He looked sheepishly at his friends. He knew it was entirely his fault that a piece of their group was missing. He knew they’d be angry, and he knew they had a right to be. He was angry at himself too.

If anything, he was grateful they were still sitting with him. He didn’t know what he would have done if they hadn’t.

From their silence, he took that they weren’t totally against his continuing, so he explained, “Well first, we leave the shit with Severus behind us. I—I took it too far and I know that and that was a dick move and—”

“It’s not us you gotta explain that to, mate.” James said coolly.

“I know, and I will explain it to Rem—” he choked on the name; even the thought of the boy made Sirius want to bang his head against the wall for being so stupid. “I’ll explain it to him, but there’s another part to this. And it’s gonna take some time…”

By the time the boys arrived at Hogwarts, Sirius had laid out his entire plan.

“D’you really think we can do that?” Peter asked.

“I dunno, but it’s worth trying. For Remus.”

“Alright then. I’m in,” said James, nodding. “For Remus.”

“For Remus,” Peter chimed in.

***

Sirius’ first apology attempt happened on the way up to the dormitory. He pulled the freckled boy aside, much to Remus’ very apparent dismay.

“I know it’s not enough just to apologize—”

“Then don’t.” Remus cut him off sharply. He tried not to show it but already his heart was breaking into a million pieces all over again. He had thought the summer would have created a bit of space, a stitch over the wound, but clearly it hadn’t. Just seeing Sirius, being in the same space as him, breathing the same air as the boy he used to dote over who’d broken his heart and betrayed his trust, made Remus feel as if he were right back in the Shrieking Shack that night, tugging at his skin and pulling on his hair, sobbing, waiting to transform, wondering if that was the night he would unwillingly become a murderer.

Sirius couldn’t see all this going on in Remus' mind. He saw the poorly hidden heartbreak, but couldn’t possibly fathom how deeply the knife was cut. “Well, I wanted to say I’m sorry—”

“It’s always about what you want over what I _need_ , Sirius! Isn’t that how we got into this fucking situation in the first place?” He stormed past Sirius, purposefully knocking his shoulder, but stopped at the base of the stairs. “What I need right now is some fucking space from you and your goddamn pranks and wants and needs and apologies. It’s unfortunate we have to share a room together, but besides that, I want to see as little of you as I can. Got it?”

He didn’t wait for confirmation because he already felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. He ran up the stairs as fast as he could. The only thing that gave him some strength was that he couldn’t hear Sirius’ footsteps behind him. But somehow even that broke his heart a little more.

***

### November, 1974

Fourth year was the worst year for the Marauders. Peter and James, as they were a package deal, bounced back and forth between spending time with Remus, and sitting in the library with Sirius, trying to bring his impossible plan to actuality.

The strangest moments occurred when the four of them were in the library at the same time, Remus sitting a few tables away. Remus watched as his friends sat in a tight huddle, backs hunched over a number of thick, dusty books, talking in hushed tones. The first time it happened, he couldn’t help wondering if this was somehow Sirius’ sick way of torturing him, a constant reminder of all that had happened. An invasion of one of the very few spaces that felt a bit his own, separate from the rest of the Marauders. Even their moonlight window sill was lost territory. But Sirius had flashed him an awkward smile and then returned to his reading when Remus’ expression stayed stony. And they kept showing up, always pouring over tumbling stacks of books with an intensity Remus rarely saw directed toward studying. Remus decided he didn’t want to know what they were researching. Whatever it was—probably another stupidly dangerous prank to pull on the Slytherins—he wanted no part in it.

Besides their overlapping moments in the library, Sirius kept to Remus’ request. Despite being the most sluggish in their room every other year, Sirius always changed quickly and left their dormitory silently in the morning, sometimes even before Remus woke up. He came in late as well, once all the others had already turned out their lights.

He sat away from Remus during lessons, and didn’t try to bother him with questions when he was confused, or ask for help with the homework. In fact, Sirius was strangely silent in class, only answering questions when called on and never volunteering to show off his natural brilliance as he so often had before. James and Peter would alternate sides of the room every other class, leaving one boy to sit on his own. Even still, they were uncharacteristically quiet, at least in the beginning.

Remus couldn’t blame his friends for hanging out with Sirius, though it hurt to see the three of them together. A small part of him, the part that missed when everything had been okay, felt left out from their secretive hours spent together. It was a willing seclusion—he figured they’d probably let him join if he asked—but the knowledge didn’t help him feel much better. He spent more time with Lily.

He cried more than he thought he would, frequently for seemingly no reason. The tears just came sometimes. It only made it worse that everyone who as much as locked eyes with Remus felt the need to make some sort of stupid comment about his scar. Each and every one of them made his stomach turn, even the ones people thought were ‘nice.’ They’d lean over during Herbology just to let him know that it was looking better and no one could even really see it anymore. He supposed that was better than the people who winced in the corridors, the sympathetic faces during breakfast, the questions that had bombarded him over the first few weeks. But not by much. He wanted to melt into the shadows, or simply disappear all together. 

***

It was one of the final days of warmth, a gift between the weeks of early-winter frost. Sirius was tired and couldn’t find any useful waste of his time. He’d actually been kicked out of the library for the day, Madam Pince sick of his showing up at the earliest hours he could. He found himself drifting out of the castle, a ghost haunting what once was his happiest haven, standing atop of the hill he’d raced down so many years before.

He looked over to the Great Lake. The sun reflected off the dark water, momentarily blinding him. There was a tree between the hill and the lake. It meant something to him, but he couldn’t quite remember, like a word on the tip of his tongue. It looked like a nice place to sit, and he really didn’t have anything better to do.

Unfortunately, he was not the only one with the same idea.

Sirius hadn’t noticed the figure sitting under the tree until he was feet behind him. He had let his eyes fall out of focus in pure exhaustion. He couldn’t see them of course, but the bags under his eyes had turned a sickly purple color. A sniffle set his attention back, and snapped his eyes to the boy sitting in the shade.

His features were hidden by the shadows, but Sirius could make out red and puffy eyes, and messy curls looking as if they’d been pulled at all day. Sirius didn’t know what to do. He wanted to reach out and make sure the boy was okay.

And then he froze, hand still extended.

The figure was far too familiar. The boy hiccuped.

Sirius whipped around and fled.

Remus turned just in time to see Sirius, already halfway up the hill, running away.

***

### December, 1974

Remus went home for Christmas. So did James and Peter.

Sirius spent the holidays alone. He didn’t stop working. He couldn’t. He’d barely managed to get his school work done in the fall but he didn’t care.

He was alone in the dormitory when he’d figured it out. Suddenly, standing where he had stood, was a large, shaggy black dog. And then Sirius again.

He smiled for the first time in days. And then he did it again, and a shaggy black dog was barking and running in circles, even leaping on his bed.

Sirius Black slept through the night for the first time in forever that night.

***


	12. January, March, and April, 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius finally sleeps. Remus reflects on the past. Sirius lets Moony in on the secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: strong allusions to physical and verbal abuse, borderline depressive/suicidal tendencies

### January, 1975

Sirius took to sleeping as a dog. He always closed the curtains before transforming, despite the fact that his friends were nearly always sleeping by the time he came into the room. It was a bit embarrassing, somehow, to admit that going to bed as a dog, with simpler thoughts and no room for stress, chased away the nightmares that had plagued him since he was a child.

They had been getting worse, and more frequent, before he discovered the secret. Warped visions of his mother with a slicing charm or a raised hand, his father with a stern expression, looking at him as if he were less than the dirt below their shoes. His brother’s angry outbursts, snickering with Slytherins in strange masks like skulls.

Remus, telling him his plan wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He wasn’t enough.

So Sirius slept, a fluffy black mass of limbs wrapped in a ball over the covers.

He sometimes worried he would forget to change back in the morning, forget his humanity and just live life as a dog until he passed. He didn’t like to admit, but at the worst moments, it was even tempting.

But then the sun rose, his friends ruffled their sheets, and he remembered that there was hope. Even if it was just a sliver, there was hope. He had to try.

***

### March, 1975

Everything fades after a while. Even the sharpest of pains, with time, eventually dulls.

Remus figured he must have known this. But it never felt as if it would be true for him, until he was looking at Sirius and he didn’t feel like he wanted to cry. He didn’t even feel all that angry anymore.

Sure, he wished it hadn’t happened. Of course he felt that way. It still hurt to think about any time he really, really thought about it, but he didn’t really think about it as much as he used to. It just didn’t cross his mind nearly as much.

He’d even started missing Sirius. It wasn’t even spiteful, just a longing for his friends to be normal again. James and Peter were great, but it was nothing compared to when all four Marauders had been together.

And there were things that only he and Sirius shared. Their window ledge in the light of the moon. Christmases spent at Hogwarts with shitty snowmen and nights by the fire. Even the things they didn’t talk about—families, nightmares, scars—there was a level of connection that simply wasn’t there with the other two.

Remus wished things would go back to the way they had been.

But he knew it wasn’t up to him to change that. He wasn’t going to let Sirius ever believe what he did was okay. Remus didn’t know what it would take to bring the group back together, but he honestly hoped Sirius had it in him.

***

### April, 1975

It took a few more months for the other boys to figure out the tricks to becoming an animagi. They’d gone through all the frustratingly arduous steps—the mandrake leaves and incantations and such—but it was still intensely difficult magic, well beyond the level of any fourth year. To everyone’s surprise, Peter figured it out before James, though only by a few days. James, luckily, was able to brush off the bruise to his ego relatively quickly.

When all three boys had perfected their own transformations, making quite a bit of a mess the first time they'd all done it, they planned how to tell Remus all they’d done.

“I feel like you should tell Moony, Sirius,” proposed Peter. “After all, it was your idea, and you did most of the work.” James nodded in agreement.

Sirius hesitated, plopping down on his bed in exhaustion. “I dunno if he’d listen to anything I say—he’s kinda made it clear he doesn’t want me around. We haven’t really talked much since…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. There was no need to continue.

“We’ll handle that, okay? He’ll listen to you.” promised James.

So, after Transfiguration the next day, James and Peter pulled Remus from the corridor where he’d been talking to Lily. While Peter hauled him away, only able to overpower him with the slight advantage of Remus’ bewilderment, James leaned—in what he must have thought was a seductive pose but was really just quite unnatural—against the wall where Remus had been only a moment before. “Sorry, Evans, super secret Marauder stuff, can’t explain—though we are allowed to tell girlfriends…”

“C’mon James,” Peter cried out, exasperated, from halfway down the corridor.

“Worth a shot,” muttered James as he ran off behind his friends, shouting “Bye Evans!” from over his shoulder.

Peter and James skidded to a halt in front of what looked like a wall, but Remus recognised the hallway. “Pete, what are we doing outside the Room of Requirement?” But he never got an answer. As soon as the doorway magically revealed itself, he was shoved in and heard the door _click_ as it locked behind him.

“This isn’t funny!” Remus yelled, knowing the pair were listening at the door. When they didn’t answer, he turned around.

Standing a few feet away, silent and anxiously fiddling with his hands, was Sirius.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No! No.” Sirius responded immediately. “Look, I... uh, I know you don’t want me around,” he began, flustered, then added, “and that’s completely okay! But, er, before that… I just have a few things I wanna say.” He cleared his throat, “If you—uh, if you wanna sit…” he gestured to a replica of Remus’ favorite armchair from the Gryffindor common room sitting in front of him. Remus hadn’t noticed it there before.

The room was stark besides the comfortable chair, with wide, dark walls surrounding the pair. “You wanted to talk… so you lock me in the Room of Requirement. And this is a _good_ way to make me listen to you?” Sirius seemed to only then realize how stupid his friends’ plan was, but didn’t say anything. Remus had always been the one with even a hint of sound judgement and forethought. Sirius shrugged. Remus, realizing he had no other option, sat suspiciously, staring up at the boy he used to have a crush on. Even after everything, it hurt to watch him be so nervous.

Sirius pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. The pants were getting to be much too small for him, and Remus made a mental note to buy him another pair sometime, before he remembered that he and Sirius were no longer friends.

“Sorry, I—er, I didn’t wanna forget any of the important stuff,” said Sirius sheepishly. He tugged the hair out of his eyes. “First off, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I was an idiot and an arse and I was selfish and I didn’t think of the consequences or how you might feel and that was really, really wrong of me.” Sirius looked up, grey eyes hopeful. Remus didn’t match his anxious smile. “And, the boys and I have agreed to stop feuding with Severus—no stupid, greasy, pathetic—”

“Sirius,” Remus warned.

“—Slytherin is worth ruining our friendship. So no more of that. At all.” He flipped the page over, and his tone became more serious. He took a deep breath. “Second, I wanted to say I know my apology is not enough to fix what I’ve done. And maybe—” he cut off, voice breaking. His hair fell in front of his face as Sirius looked down at the paper and drew in a shaky breath. It was a moment before he spoke again, quieter but resolved, “and maybe nothing is ever going to be enough to fix what I’ve done, and that’s okay. But I wanted to try. So…”

“So?” Remus prompted, still a little impatient, but curious.

“So the boys and I maybe became animagi so we could help you with your transformations,” Sirius blurted out quickly.

Remus sat back in shock. His friends. Animagi. For him.

Every last drop of worry, anger, frustration left his body.

Peter and James snuck in quietly, hearing their cue.

“Is that true?” Remus asked them for confirmation.

The pair nodded.

“How’d you manage it? It takes years of practice, and you have to get registered with the ministry, they’d never let kids—”

“Yeah it was mostly Padfoot here’s work,” said James, patting his friend on the back. “And the ministry thing… turns out it’s mostly a formality isn’t it. So, we decided to bypass it and do it on our own.”

“Hang on, Padfoot?” Remus asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Sirius transformed into the black dog and back again. “Padfoot, ya know… ‘cause a dog.” He shook his head. He sounded so stupid, of course Remus could make the connection himself.

But Remus was too astounded to think. There in front of him, living proof that his friends had become illegal animagi, all for his sake. He couldn’t help but to smile. “And you two?”

“Prongs,” James pointed to himself, “and Wormtail.” He gestured to Peter.

Remus snickered, “Wormtail?”

Peter shrunk down into a small grey rat, just quick enough to slip through the murderous branches of the Whomping Willow.

“Figured we’d need some code names if we’re ever going to sneak around this castle without being caught.”

“James’ and my animagi are big enough that if anything bad happens, we’ll be able to fend you off in wolf form, ya know? And Peter’s small enough that he can escape, no problem—”

Remus leapt out of his seat and wrapped Sirius in the tightest hug he’d ever had. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Never, _ever_ pull any shit like that again, alright? But thank you.”

He turned around to face his other friends. “I really can’t tell you how much this—”

“Ah, save the mushy stuff for the pillow, Moony.” But James was grinning too. “We’re your best mates, remember? It’s what we do.”

***


	13. June, 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets back together, just in time for a final full moon before the summer.

###  June, 1975

It took awhile for things to get back to normal between the boys, but by June it was almost as if nothing had ever happened. Almost.

If anyone asked James and Peter, everything was like it had always been. Like nothing had happened at all. But Remus knew it happened. And Sirius knew it happened. Sometimes, there would be little moments, quick flashes of eye contact, where they would both acknowledge that it happened. A million passing apologies in the form of puppy dog eyes and a shy smile.

But that was okay. Sirius didn’t want to forget it happened. Sirius wanted to remember the incident until the day he died so he never got to that point again. It still haunted him at night sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep and he looked out the window toward the moon.

They had grown too large to share the window sill, and yet it felt strange to sit there, one without the other. They kept it empty still, just in case they ever needed it. Sometimes, Sirius wished he could shrink back down, just to share the ledge once more.

Other times, Remus and Sirius would lie awake at night, both watching the moon, and each other, alternating who was looking so neither had to fully acknowledge their mutual awakenness. One of those nights, of course, was June 4th, a full year after the incident. Sirius whispered, “I’m really sorry,” into the darkness. He smiled faintly when Remus’ voice came back, “It’s okay.” And in the thin light of the moon, their eyes connected. And somehow, knowing the other was awake made it a little bit better.

***

The first transformation with the boys went better than Remus could have ever expected. The three boys snuck out as usual, a few minutes after Madame Pomfrey escorted Remus to the Shrieking Shack. Peter, as the smallest animagi, weaved between the waving branches of the Whomping Willow to press the secret knot. The tree froze and the boys snuck into the dark, cramped tunnel, starting their way on the long path into the dilapidated house.

Remus hadn’t transformed by the time they arrived. He was just sitting, legs crossed, on an old, broken bed. He heard his friends climbing up the stairs, and his heart began to pound again. They’d never been so close to him while he was transformed. Would they be so fearful, like his parents? Sure, they’d  _ said _ it was fine, but all separation was gone. Even worse, what if he hurt them and they couldn’t fight back-

“Hiya Moony!” Sirius said cheerfully, plopping down on the bed beside him.

“Hey Remus,” Peter followed.

“You ready for this?” asked James, swinging around the doorway.

Remus played with his hands in his lap anxiously, “Guys, I dunno if this is the best idea. What if—”

Sirius took Remus’ hands in his to pause the nervous fiddling and gave them a good squeeze. “Hey, I didn’t spend all last summer and this year to learn to do a ridiculously difficult spell and then teach it to these two idiots—”

“Hey!” James and Peter interjected, in sync.

“—just for you to back out now. We’ve got a plan for if it doesn’t go well, remember? And we’ll never know if we don’t try.”

Remus took in a deep breath. “Okay. But at least stay in the other room while I’m changing.” When no one moved, he added, “Please?”

One by one, the boys left the room. Sirius hung around, holding onto the door frame for just a moment longer. He gave him a smile that threw Remus back to the previous year. He hadn’t been crazy—anyone sensible would fall for that mischievous grin, those warm grey eyes, and the slightly curling hair swinging by his shoulders. “See you in a second Rem.” He shut the door carefully behind him.

The boys didn’t hesitate when they heard the first signs of Remus’ transformation, they immediately cast themselves back into their animal forms. Sirius was glad for it—the noise was terrible; sharp, strangled cries of pure agony. At least as a dog he could hide the way his stomach caved in, the way each shout made him want to tear off his own ears. As soon as the commotion had calmed down, the three of them crept back into the bedroom.

Being an animagi certainly dulled the senses, lessening the mind just enough to keep each of them from being overwhelmed at the first sight of a werewolf in the flesh. There was no room for fear; as long as they stayed animals, they were in very little danger.

It was the first full moon where Remus came out with no new scars, no cuts, not even a scratch to be found. Having companions somehow made the night tolerable for the wolf—enough distractions to stop him from picking at his own skin.

When Remus transformed again, he found himself surrounded by a stag, a dog, and a rat all huddled around him. Then, his best friends were on top of him, hugging him and celebrating.

“We did it! It worked!” They yelled.

“Shh!” Remus hushed, though he couldn't stop grinning, “Madame Pomfrey’ll be here any moment, you gotta go.” He didn’t want to send them away, but he was exhausted and would hate for them to be caught just after the best full moon of his life. With one final hug they transformed into their animal forms once more and headed out. “Padfoot,” Remus called. The black dog turned its head. “Thanks again.” His tail wagged happily on the way out.

***

Remus slept through the following morning, as he always did. Madame Pomfrey had been thrilled to find him virtually unharmed, though thoroughly confused. She wondered aloud as she tended to the usual damage that came with a stretched spine, a new skin, an out of body experience: exhaustion and aching joints. Remus found himself agreeing with even her wildest theories, desperate for her to find something to pin it on so she put the curiosity aside.

When she had finally decided he truly was unharmed (she’d kept trying to check his bad knee, confounded by the lack of wounds to tend to) she let him sleep further. For once, Remus wasn’t tired. He wanted to see his friends.

To his luck, they seemed to have the same idea. James, Sirius, and Peter burst into the hospital wing around noon, carrying chocolates, books for their final exam—Care of Magical Creatures, one of Remus’ favorites—and a few treacherously balanced cups of tea that Sirius kept having to levitate with his wand as poor Peter stumbled from side to side, trying to stay upright. A wide smile spread across Remus’ face.

When they were halfway across the room, charging as if somehow they could avoid—“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?” Madame Pomfrey stepped between the three boys and their target, whose face fell from the hospital bed.

“Please let them through?” Remus begged. “I slept all morning and you’ve checked, I’m not hurt!” His eyes pleaded with her silently until she sighed, stepping aside. Sirius started forward, immediately setting up his spot beside Remus.

“No loud disturbances,” Madame Pomfrey said, eyeing the pack of exploding snap in James’ pocket. He sheepishly tucked it away. “This is still a hospital wing, if you haven’t forgotten.” Though her tone was strict, she flashed a gentle smile Remus’ way.

The day felt like any other, which was uncommon in the hospital wing. Remus was used to lonely hours filled with whichever book was lying around until he slept again. With his friends by his side, Remus barely remembered the previous night’s events had occurred.

By the time it had settled upon him, James and Peter had already set off for dinner, promising to pack him extra of whatever was served, and Sirius was just finishing packing up the last of their stuff to bring to the dormitory before heading down himself.

Remus’ voice was low and careful as he asked, “What was I like?”

Sirius, who had been bent over, adding the last textbooks onto his pile, set down his things and turned. “What do you mean?” He matched Remus in tone and volume.

“As the wolf, do you remember what I was like?” He asked it before he could stop himself; a large part of him didn’t want to know. The wolf felt like an alter ego, a secret, dangerous side of himself he wasn’t supposed to discover.

Sirius smiled faintly and sat on the end of his bed. He didn’t seem to mind the question. “The wolf seemed hesitant at first, or at least I think it was hesitant. I don’t think I can perceive as many emotions in my…” he looked behind him to check no one was listening, “other form. It’s a bit hazy. It was incredible, though.”

Remus pondered this for a moment. “So he—I—whatever, wasn’t violent, or anything?”

“Nah,” Sirius scoffed. “I never really sensed that we were in danger. It was loads of fun actually. Lots of running and breaking things and howling—you’ve got some pipes—”

Remus dropped his head into his hands, laughing. All this time he’d been worried about the wolf attacking his best mates, and turns out they’d just howled at the moon together. How lucky could he possibly get?

***


	14. July and August, 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black spends his summer nights in London with some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a doozy, but one of my favorite chapters. see if you can spot the titular phrase which essentially started this whole project.
> 
> cw: homophobia and use of what is sometimes considered a slur, domestic physical violence/abuse

###  July, 1975

When Remus arrived home, the first thing he did (after greeting his parents of course) was take out the polaroid camera and photo album from where he’d stashed them under his bed. He blew the dust off and flipped through, breathing out all the anger and frustration and fear that he’d felt the last time he’d held them. Things were okay.

***

When Sirius Black walked out the door of number 12 Grimmauld Place on the hottest day in July, he had every intention of never coming back. Of course, this was not the first time he had left with such ideas in his mind, but this time he was sure.

Wearing a simple white button down and jeans that Remus had given him as a thank you gift at the end of the previous year, he fit right in with the muggles his family so deeply despised, and every step felt like a rebellion. He had nothing with him but the wand in his back pocket. No money, no way of connecting with his friends or family. And he smiled for the first time in days.

The summer had been miserable, more silence than yelling and more yelling than he could possibly handle. So he left.

Sirius wandered up and down the streets of London until his feet felt like they would surely fall off and his stomach growled. He stopped at the next restaurant he found, a small diner with cheap food and outdoor seating in the shade facing the street. He wolfed down the meal as soon as it arrived and spent the next hour watching the street and trying to settle the guilt that struck him when his server set down the check with a broad smile.

When he’d finally settled on the idea that using magic to steal money was morally worse than the classic dine and dash, he made to sneak off. He’d almost gotten on to the street when—

“Whoa there buddy, not just going to leave without paying, were you?” A tall, dark haired boy stood in front of him, blocking his path. He must have been only a year or two older than Sirius, seventeen or so, but he was still intimidating. The younger boy stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse, but the other teen just waved a hand. “It’s no worries—I tried that stuff too. I got it.” He put down a few muggle bills and waved at the server.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Sirius replied, following his benefactor out onto the street without really thinking about it, taking in the sight of the guy. He was handsome in a rugged way, wearing a jean jacket with a whole number of multicolored pins and patches, each with its own phrase that seemed like gibberish to Sirius. He looked around, “Where’re we headed exactly?”

“You’re one of us, aren’t you? You’ve got that look about you.” At Sirius’ bewildered silence, he continued, “Part of the  _ community _ ? A friend of Dorothy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mary…?”

“Uh… No? I’m Sirius.” The other boys laughed at this. “Is there a joke I’m not getting or something?”

He smiled, “No, no. It’s just—okay let’s try this. Would you consider yourself… fairly open minded?”

Sirius scoffed, “More than my parents, yeah—”

“Ah! See, there’s a start.” He clapped his hands together. “So, did they kick you out, or did you get outta there first?” Sirius was quiet for a moment, “Sorry, touchy subject, probably too early. I didn’t like talking about it for a while too.” The other boy paused too, checking a street sign and then turning a corner off the main road. “Mine kicked me out. I saw it coming, but… it still sucked. Found some new family, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah…” Sirius replied, just faint enough for his companion to hear. After a pause, “I left.” He didn’t say more, and the other boy didn’t press. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, force of habit. Connor.” He took a hand out of his jacket pocket and extended it. His grip was strong.

“And again, where are we going?”

“Well, if you are one of us, I’m going to change your life. And if not… don’t punch me in the face alright, it’s my best—second best feature.” Connor chuckled to himself. “Though, if you were going to, you probably would have already. And you followed a hot stranger through the city with nothing but my amazing conversational skills as a guide, so I think I’m safe.”

Before Sirius could respond, Connor stopped in front of an old building with a makeshift sign in pink paint. “Fangs. This is the place that’s supposedly life changing?”

Connor flashed a lopsided grin, “Just you wait young Sirius. It doesn’t look like much, but…” He went to open the door but Sirius didn’t move. “Oh c’mon, what do you have to lose? It’s getting dark out anyway.”

Sirius looked around to discover Connor was right; the sun had already sunk well below the towering buildings around them. Wordlessly, he walked through the door and into a whole other world. A world where men wore lipstick and the women—well they didn’t look like any witches he’d ever seen. Nor muggle women for that part, though Sirius had considerably less knowledge of that area. The room was packed, wall to wall with dancing people in absurdly beautiful outfits; most were young, around his age, runaways from their parents, but some looked like they could be parents themselves. Strobe lights flashed bright hues across the dance floor.

“Welcome to Fangs,” Connor said, gesturing grandly and clapping Sirius on the back. “Looks like fun, yeah?”

Sirius couldn’t hold back a smile. “Yeah, it really does.”

“Then get out there!”

The night consisted of blurred memories, vibrant colors and dancing with strangers to songs he’d never heard before that sounded like pure bliss. Sirius was almost convinced the beat was magic, no one seemed able to stop dancing, even though his own feet were killing him. Despite the cramped space and intense heat coming from all around him, Sirius felt as if he could truly breathe for the first time in his life. He couldn’t explain it. When he finally got tired, Sirius leaned up against the wall, observing the chaos he had just escaped.

“You’d look good in a leather jacket, you know.” A stranger joined him, curly hair and brown eyes and soft hands against his. He was wearing a dress, a pretty sage green dress that hugged his hips. The stranger was still dancing a bit, stepping from side to side as if he would die if he stopped. “Haven't seen you yet—you must be a newbie, or maybe just passing by?" The man in the dress spoke fast, talking more to himself than to Sirius. "So when did you realize?”

“Realize?” Sirius gave him a puzzled expression once he figured it was a question he was supposed to know how to answer.

“That you were gay, of course.” Sirius had never heard that word before. The Blacks didn’t talk about… things like that. “Homosexual? Into men—”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sirius choked, eyes widening to the size of saucers.

The stranger giggled, “Honey, you didn’t think heteros had this much fun, now did you?”

Before Sirius could get a chance to process, a disturbance broke out. Someone had shouted, “It’s the cops!” and suddenly everyone scattered. Hundreds of people who had only moments ago been dancing as if there was no tomorrow, no existence but the inside of this makeshift club, were making their way toward the exit as if it were life and death.

What Sirius didn’t realize was, for some of them, it was.

“C’mon Sirius, let’s get out of here—” Connor found him in the crowd and grabbed him by the arm roughly.

“I don’t get it, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later, just go!”

After a few anxious moments of stumbling through crowds, the pair broke out into the fresh air. Compared to the heat and energy from the club, the street felt dead and cold. Though his heart was racing, Sirius could feel a spark in him fade, disappointed the night had ended so quickly and abruptly. Connor didn’t hesitate—he tore off into the night. Sirius, unsure of where else to go, followed.

It was minutes later when Connor even slowed, rounding random corners and hiding in shadow. Sirius pulled in right behind him, nearly crashing into him.

“What. The hell. Was that.” He panted, heaving in the still, humid air.

Connor’s cheeks were flushed a deep red, even visible in the darkness. “Yeah, that—uh—happens. Only sometimes. Damn shame it was your first time.”

“But why?”

“People don’t really like us, that’s why. Think we’re diseased. Fucked up.”

Sirius sat in shocked silence.

“It was illegal until a few years ago anyway.”

“You mean—”

“Yeah.”

Sirius leaned his head against the brick wall behind him, taking in a breath. “I don’t think you get it. I’m not… I don’t like… guys, or whatever.”

This made Connor laugh. Like a full chested, brief explosions of happiness, laugh. It sounded like fireworks in the rotting night air.

Which made Sirius angry. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“Well, mate. You certainly don’t dislike boys.” He couldn’t stop laughing and it just made Sirius angrier. “Look, I saw the way you were dancing, the way you were looking at everyone—”

“That doesn’t fucking mean I’m into them!”

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” Connor admitted rationally. “Can you even think of a single girl you’ve liked? Or have you been too busy—too picky—too whatever to think about them. And who’s that one person that feels like home? That makes you happy for reasons you don’t even understand. That holds your world in the palm of their hand without either of you noticing?”

Sirius could only think of Remus. Beautiful Remus in his oversized sweaters lying by the fire in the common room with a lazy smile on his face. And that terrified him. So he ran.

***

###  August, 1975

That night dominated Sirius’ thoughts for days on end. He’d gone back to 12 Grimmauld Place eventually, tired of turning around dark street corners and feeling lost in more ways than one. He hadn’t told his family about where he was, Sirius wasn’t that stupid, but he wanted some help. He drafted letters upon letters to Remus that all ended up in the trash—how could he convey that everything felt different now and he might understand things better and that was the worst thing in the whole world. Even worse, what if Remus wrote back and said he understood?

Eventually he left Grimmauld Place again. He wandered the same streets in London, telling himself he wasn’t looking for Connor even though his attention was caught by every passing denim jacket.

When he made it to the scene of the club, Sirius was disappointed to see the misshapen sign was gone, with no other markers of where Sirius might find their next temporary set up. Dejected, he walked away down the empty street.

As he passed a quaint vintage store, something caught his eye. In the midst of all the chaos—piled shoe boxes and trinkets and the like—a pristine condition leather jacket fashioned on a model in the window.

He stopped inside, wandering around the shop and admiring all the styles. Who knew muggle clothes came in such variety? Sirius’ only exposure had been Remus, whose wardrobe consisted of too-big sweaters and cuffed corduroy pants, and the people from Fangs, who even Sirius could guess were not wearing normal muggle clothes.

He pulled something off every rack, jackets and jeans and button up shirts, until his arms were full. “Hey, uh—” he cut off. The man working at the register looked oddly familiar, but Sirius couldn’t place it.

The guy gave him a warm smile. “Looking for the fitting room?”

“...Yeah” Sirius forced his eyes away, and they caught on something else. A much more familiar green dress, hanging over a rack of clothes behind the counter. “You’re—”

The worker made the connection just as quickly. “Not so loud, honey. It’s not something I’d like to advertise to the public just yet.”

Sirius swallowed. “Got it.”

“Fitting rooms are that way… and if you’re looking for another place to go, come find me on your way out.” The man gave him a wink and sent him on his way.

Sirius rarely looked at himself in the mirror at 12 Grimmauld Place, preferring to leave the scruffy mess that was his face and hair a mystery, only to be discovered when his mother pulled at the locks to tame them. So when he entered the cramped changing room, finding a full length mirror in front of him, he paused, just for a moment. Gaunt eyes stared back at him, a glint of excitement, of adventure, a spark keeping them awake. The transformation after he’d put on the new clothes was astonishing. Suddenly, a new person stood in front of him. Someone strong, someone with an identity outside of being the family black sheep.

Someone  _ living _ , not just alive.

He thought he understood, if only just slightly, how the men in Fangs had felt in their long flowing skirts and unbuttoned shirts, twirling out on the dancefloor.

Sirius tried on more clothes than he’d had in years. Between robes and the stiff suits that passed as Black family attire, there wasn’t much room for individual style. For now, he’d leave the most adventurous outfits to the other partiers. He settled on a pair of black skinny jeans, with slits in the knees, a plain button down, and that leather jacket from the window. And for the first time since he’d tried on those jeans Remus gave him, Sirius loved what he saw in the mirror.

He came out of the fitting room with piles of clothes, only to remember that once again, he had no way to pay for any of it. His face fell slightly. When he started to hang the clothes back up, the familiar stranger hurried over. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing? I thought you loved those ones.”

“I don’t have any money. None that I could use here anyway.”

The other boy just shooed that away with a hand, “It’s on the house.”

Sirius paused, “Really?”

“Yeah! You see anyone else comin’ in here anyway?” He started to pick up the items Sirius had been putting back.

“I gotta pay you back somehow,” insisted Sirius, trying not to get overwhelmed at the excitement over his new clothes.

“Then come back tomorrow. Work around the store a bit, and you can take whatever ya fancy that we don’t sell.”

And that’s how Sirius got his first job, working in a muggle vintage shop. He came back each day of the summer, and befriended the cashier, who, it turns out, did have a name: Alexander. So Sirius and Alexander would spend the day working, and the evening finding a new mess of clothes to wear to another one of their ‘get togethers.’ Sirius didn’t know how Alexander always knew where the next makeshift club would be—as it changed nearly every night, but he did somehow, and Sirius wasn’t complaining. He was tired of thinking, tired of asking himself questions he knew he couldn’t answer. So instead he had the time of his life, dancing around in clothes his parents would likely murder him in, with strangers who all knew the night could end at any moment.

They didn’t acknowledge their nighttime activities in the day—it was too dangerous knowing anyone could come in the store at any time—except once, when Alexander caught Sirius staring at a couple in the street, lazily holding hands as if it meant nothing, throwing away a quick kiss, laughing and embracing and smiling. He placed a soft hand on top of Sirius’, causing the boy to look away from the happy pair.

“It’s hard to watch sometimes, I know. They live by the sun, we love by the moon. But when I really think about it, I think we’re the lucky ones. We know how important a single kiss is. We know the cost of showing affection. We know how much a fleeting moment of freedom is worth.” He took in a slow breath. “They let love pass them by in broken hand holds and stupid arguments. We know each moment could be our last to ever feel this way again, ever be ourselves again. It makes everything more important, doesn’t it?”

Sirius didn’t answer. He wasn’t supposed to.

Alexander walked away.

Sirius didn’t know if he agreed. He wanted to hold hands in the daylight, let little moments pass by without wondering if they would be all he had to hold on to years down the line. He wanted to throw away kisses without wondering if they were his last.

But Sirius knew thinking this way made it easier for Alexander, and who was he to contest that?

The two boys got lucky. For the rest of the summer, the parties died down before the cops arrived. No one asked what happened to those who’d been caught that night at Fangs. They all knew.

***

The worst night of Sirius’ life started just like the rest of them. With a bit of work, a few hours of dress up in the vintage store fitting rooms, and seemingly endless moments dancing with strangers. At one point, Sirius even thought one of the younger guys had kissed him on the neck, by the collar of his shirt, but he was too breathless and elated to think on it for long.

But he always went home. This night, his parents were waiting for him.

And his mother was clutching one of the many letters he had drafted to Remus with white knuckles. Sirius’ stomach dropped. He was most certainly regretting allowing Alexander to experiment with eyeliner on him as he made harsh eye contact with his father.

“What is the meaning of this, Sirius?” his mother asked in a shrill tone, shaking the paper. It's rattling echoed in the empty halls and surrounded Sirius, the weight of his foolishness, carelessness, overwhelming him. “Is this where you’ve been going all these nights out? We always knew you were a disgrace to the family, but—” she choked on the words.

Sirius’ father walked over and grabbed him by the collar. He caught sight of the pink lip stain smudged on his collar and shoved his son. Sirius stumbled back a few paces. “At least it was a fucking  _ female _ this time.”

Sirius was an idiot. Sirius was a belligerent, absolute bloody idiot, because he replied, “And what if it wasn’t, huh?”

And suddenly there was a fist in his face. And in his gut. And he was on the floor.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both "a friend of dorothy" and "mary" were slang terms used by the lgbtq+ community in the 70s to distinguish themselves to one another without risking being fully outed. the phrase "a friend of dorothy" was more widely spread in the states than it was in the UK, but i just love it so much i had to include it. some consider "mary" to be a borderline offensive slur nowadays but it was fairly innocuous back then
> 
> fangs was a real club set up beneath a hotel in paddington (aka central london for my fellow americans), which only lasted one night in 1975, due to "interference from the venue’s owners, who were none too happy about homos taking over their space" - a quote from https://daily.redbullmusicacademy.com/2013/05/coming-out-ball-70s-gay-clubbing-in-london  
> it was at full capacity that night and held upwards of 600 people. gay discos were fairly common both in the US and the UK around this time.
> 
> homosexuality was legalized (for men, lesbian acts had never been illegal) in the UK in 1967 with the Sexual Offenses Act, though it was only on the condition that the relationships were consensual, in private, and between two men who were at least 21. even so, a UK poll the year prior found that 93% of responders saw homosexuality as a form of illness requiring medical treatment. the first british pride didn't occur until 1972. all this to say, most people were still Not Okay with gay people :/


	15. September, 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders return to school for their fifth year. New rumors fly about Sirius Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: bruises and the lasting effects of abuse, homophobia

##  Year 5

###  September, 1975

Remus Lupin was already sitting down in the compartment, legs tucked into his chest, eyes glued to the most recent escapist novel he’d found over the summer, when he heard the door open. As Sirius Black walked in, sporting a leather jacket, ripped skinny jeans, and a black eye, Remus thought he’d forgotten how to breathe.

He looked more confident than ever (not that confidence was anything Sirius had ever lacked) and casually leaned against the doorframe, a few cheap silver necklaces swaying around his neck. He could hear the faint click as they rattled against each other. Remus got the strange urge to take his picture—capture the moment before it was over and could leave his mind forever. He also wanted to submit to new, surprisingly strong impulses, screaming at him to reach out and grab the jewelry in his hand, pull the other boy into a fierce kiss—“‘Sup Moony?” Sirius asked innocently, as if nothing had changed since they’d gotten off the Hogwarts Express a few months prior.

“Sirius! You’ve—uh… changed,” was all Remus could spit out, mentally banging his head against the wall.  _ You’ve changed? That’s all you’ve got? Your best mate got really fuckin’ hot over the summer and all you can say is you’ve changed? _

But Sirius laughed it off, brushing a hand through his long hair. His nails had chipped black paint and a few shiny rings were scattered—one on his thumb, two on his ring finger, one in the middle—“Yeah, I switched up my style a bit haven’t I? Had a new friend help me out with that. D’you like it?” His demeanor shifted just slightly, from completely carefree, to a bit more interested. Remus barely noticed.

_ Like it? Bloody hell—wear that everyday and I’ll never focus in lessons again— _

“Looks good, yeah." Remus swallowed. "More you.” He paused, wondering if he should address… “What happened to your eye?”

Sirius looked confused for a second, as if he’d completely forgotten about the giant bruise covering half his face, “Oh, this old thing? Nothing special, just—”

But Remus had stood up to get a closer look, revealing just how much taller he’d gotten over the summer and the rest of Sirius’ sentence stuck in his throat.

“Bloody hell Moony, you’ve grown!” Sirius exclaimed, stumbling back and looking Remus up and down, trying to swallow back all the thoughts that had been swimming in his head all summer. Sirius tried, and failed, to hide the shock as he bumped up against the sliding glass doors of the compartment. He couldn't look away. Remus looked effortlessly cool, sweater and jean jacket and another book hanging loosely, forgotten in his hands. The soft curls, the familiar freckles, the healing scars—Sirius felt warmth rising in his cheeks.  _ Who’s that one person that feels like home… who holds your world in the palm of their hand without either of you noticing? _ He shook off the memory like a dog shaking off water and sat down.

_ Not a problem for today. _

Before the moment could turn awkward, the last two Marauders showed up, babbling about their summers and how James was back and better than ever, ready to win over Lily Evans.

“Merlin, James, are you ever going to give it a rest?” Remus joked, turning away from Sirius to avoid staring. He felt himself falling back into the mess of yearning and want that had consumed him in third year, and Remus was desperately trying to claw himself out. With the OWLs coming up, he had no time for hopeless pining. Plus, he was still curious about the black eye but figured if Sirius didn’t tell him alone, he certainly wouldn’t be more willing to do so in front of the others.

***

Something that took both Sirius and Remus by surprise on the train ride was the astonishing number of girls who stopped by the Marauder's compartment to wave at Sirius, and giggle when he waved back, running a casual hand through his hair.

It was only after the fifth group passed by, a couple of Ravenclaw fourth years, that James asked, “Oi, Pads. How’re you doing that?” He paused, “And d’ya think it’d work on Evans?”

Sirius just shrugged, “I’m not doing anything. Just my natural charm—plus I got better looking over the summer. It’s a shame it didn’t happen to you—” he was cut off by James’ fist knocking into his shoulders, right on one of the healing bruises, causing Sirius to take in a sharp breath. He tried to play it off, knocking James right back, avoiding Remus’ eyes, but he could tell he’d noticed.

Lily stopped by as they were still touselling—to the excitement of James, who immediately straightened up and ruffled his hair, and the second hand excitement of Peter—but she barely acknowledged them, turning instead towards Remus.

She crossed her arms, leaning against the compartment door. “What are you doing?”

He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Prefects are meeting in our carriage in five minutes, c’mon get changed!”

“Oh shit—” Remus began rummaging through his things frantically.

The other boys sat back in astonishment. Peter was the first to speak, “No.”

“You’re saying—”

“Our Moony—”

“A prefect?!”

Remus dug out a shiny badge, and the compartment exploded once more.

“How dare you—”

“Why didn’t you tell us!”

“Does this mean you can take points away from Severus when he’s being a blood-purist prat—” James turned around to face Lily awkwardly, “Sorry.” He looked back at Remus and whispered, “But does it?”

Remus sighed, still digging around for his robes. “Yes, I’m a prefect, I got the letter over the summer. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d act like this, and  _ no _ , James, I will not be taking away points from Slytherin unless someone actually breaks a rule.”

“Damn. Guess that’s why Dumbledore made you prefect over me.”

“Yeah,” Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes, “that was the only reason why.”

Remus stumbled out of the compartment, pulling on his robes and pinning his prefect badge to his chest. He and Lily were halfway down the corridor when Sirius came running out. Remus tried not to think about how perfect he looked, hair flowing as he jogged.

“Rem!” He held up a red and gold tie, and Remus looked down, realizing he didn’t have his. His cheeks flushed red.

“Oh, thanks,” he said as Sirius caught up with them, panting slightly. “I, uh—”

“Yeah, you can’t tie a tie quickly Moony, I know. We’ve lived in the same dormitory for four years now.” Sirius stepped forward and began wrapping the fabric around Remus’ neck and popped up the collar on his white shirt, having to reach up slightly now that Remus stood almost a head taller than him. Remus was hyper aware of how very close to him Sirius was standing, feeling every brush of his soft hands, cold rings against the nape of his neck sending a new swarm of butterflies.

Lily stifled a giggle while Sirius’ hands flew, “You’re a prefect and you can’t tie a tie?”

“I can! It just… takes a few tries to get it right.”

Sirius tightened the knot, laying the tie flat and tucking it into Remus’ sweater. Remus hoped he couldn’t feel his heartbeat racing. It was so loud in his own ears he could hardly hear anything else. “There you go!” He adjusted it once more, laying the collar flat. “Good luck in there. Don’t let them turn you into a goody-two shoes prat—no offense Lily—”

“None taken.”

“And  _ don’t _ do anything I wouldn’t do. Got it?”

Remus held his hands up in surrender, feeling like he was going to burn up if Sirius stayed that close to him, just a breath away, for even a moment longer. “Got it, Pads.”

They stood there for half a second before Lily tugged Remus away, saying, “C’mon Remus, we’re gonna be late,” but it felt like ages. Remus, looking into Sirius’ stormy grey eyes, which were so intently fixed on him, as if he were everything that mattered in that moment. Remus shook his head, trying to erase the shock. He was making things up again, feeding into a third year fantasy of a Sirius Black who liked him back, and now Lily was dragging him toward the prefect’s compartment.

“Did you see the way he looked at you?” Lily whispered, pulling on his sleeve.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lily.” Remus tried to keep his emotions concealed, his face stony.

“You don’t still like him, do you?” When he didn’t respond, she squealed with delight, “Oh you do! This is so exciting! Who’s gonna—”

“Lil, please don’t do this. I don’t wanna get my hopes up all over again. He’s not even gay! And he doesn’t know I’m—”

“You haven’t told them?”

Remus scratched his neck awkwardly, “Well, I was gonna get to it… and then I just—” but before he had to make up some lame excuse as to why he hadn’t come out to his three closest friends, the pair reached the door to the prefect’s carriage and hurried in.

Remus barely listened the whole train ride. The Head Boy droned on and on about ‘personal responsibility’ and ‘being model students’ and some other shit about the prefects’ duties which had already been listed in the letter sent over the summer.

He tried not to think about Sirius Black and his new clothes and long hair and black eye, but it was useless. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment Sirius had come into the compartment over and over again in his mind, and the way Sirius had stayed so close to him, even after finishing tying his tie. What he  _ really _ tried not to do, and somehow managed to do (for the most part) was think about holding Sirius’ hand, or kissing Sirius’ lips and neck and-

_ Hello! _ The sensible voice in Remus’ voice screamed in protest. _ He’s still your best mate and this little crush reviving doesn’t change that. _

So Remus tried to listen to the Head Girl who was now discussing the amenities that were only accessible to prefects. He figured this could at least be a bit useful at some point this year.

***

Lily ran over to where Remus was sitting with his friends, discussing one of Remus’ new ideas—a magical map of Hogwarts grounds. She waved a hand in front of his face, “Hello! Fellow prefect! We have to escort the first years to the common room?”

Remus scrambled to his feet, “Right—First years follow us!” He shouted over the commotion of the Great Hall.

She sighed, “If you’d listened to the Head Boy when he was talking, you’d know this stuff,” but Remus just waved her complaints away with a hand.

When a sufficiently large number of tiny little first years were gathered at their feet (“We weren’t this small back then, were we?”) Remus and Lily began leading the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

“So, the portrait of the Fat Lady is the entrance to the common room, and there’s a password that you’ll have to remember,” Lily explained in a sweet voice. It had become immediately clear to all of the younger students that she was the one to go to if they needed anything. Remus had mostly just stood beside her and tried not to look completely out of his element. “Any questions?”

“Yeah!” A small, high-pitched voice piped up from the middle of the crowd, but Remus couldn’t spot who it was coming from. “How’d you get all those scars?”

Remus stuttered for a moment before Sirius popped up out of nowhere, “Oh, he has a  _ really _ bad dog. One that eats little boys who ask intrusive questions—”

“Okay, Sirius, that’s enough,” Lily interjected. “Remus, you handle him, I’ll sort out the rest of them.”

“Handle him? What’s that supposed to mean—”

“Just keep him quiet before he traumatizes the entire first year class! I dunno, have him re-tie your tie a few times or something.” She giggled to herself, holding open the portrait hole for the first years.

Remus dragged Sirius away from the kids, as he was told. “Why’d you have to go telling them I have a rabid dog that’s gonna eat them?” He asked, exasperated.

“That little git asked about your scars and I know you don’t like talking about them, so I figured I’d help. It was the first thing I thought of.” Sirius shrugged.

“Thanks, but next time just a ‘none of your business’ would suffice—”

“Merlin. They’ve got you saying  _ suffice _ now. I cannot lose you to the prefects, Remus Lupin.” Hearing him say his full name sent shivers up Remus’ spine.

“Shove off, Padfoot.” Remus pulled his friend along behind him, seeing the first years had all settled in their dormitories and out of sight.

They headed up to their own room, where James and Peter were waiting for them, already changing for bed.

“Sirius, you never told us how you spent your summer.” Peter pointed out.

James looked up. “Yeah, that’s right, and how you got that nasty black eye—which looks badass by the way — ”

“Eh, nothing crazy. Snuck out a few times, met a few muggle friends, got a job. Not super exciting.” Sirius dodged, slowly unpacking his items. He didn’t look them in the eye.

No one brought up that he still hadn’t told them where the black eye had come from.

When Sirius went to shower, he brought his pajamas in the bathroom with him. He shut the door lightly and locked it, then gingerly removed his clothes to examine the patchwork of bruises across his ribs and chest. Most of his skin was a sickly purple color, dark and discolored. When he was tired of staring, growing sick to his stomach, he shut his eyes and didn’t open them back up until he was out of sight of the mirror.

***

It was a few weeks into the semester when Remus came into the empty dormitory, lugging a few books from the additional classes he’d picked up. He’d worked extra hard before the full moon to ensure he didn’t fall behind, and was looking forward to an easy afternoon, free of homework. He could hear the shower running, presumably either Peter or Sirius as James was at quidditch practice. Unbothered, Remus stretched out on his bed, crossing his legs and looking up at the ceiling, trying to lay out the groundwork for the map he’d been talking about the first night. 

He’d been sitting there for a good two minutes, trying to decide whether plotting Hogsmeade was overkill, when he heard the bathroom door open up. Out walked Sirius, hair damp and hanging in his eyes, with a white towel slung low around his hips, a few droplets of water still dripping down his back. But surprisingly (at least to the dirty side of his fifteen year old brain), that was not what caught his attention.

“Fuck, Pads, what  _ happened _ to you?”

“Shit.” Sirius grabbed his towel frantically and ran back into the bathroom. “Moony—I didn’t hear you come in.” He gasped from behind the closed door.

“Sirius…” Remus began, still processing what he’d seen.

“Look, just forget about it, I’m fine.” A pause before he followed up with, “I promise.”

The curly haired boy took a deep breath, “That didn’t look fine, Sirius. Have those been there since the first day?”

“I said, I’m—” But Remus grabbed his wand and unlocked the door before he could finish. Luckily ( _ or unluckily _ said a small part of Remus’ brain), Sirius had dressed, throwing on the pair of jeans and white t-shirt he’d been wearing when he’d gotten in to go shower.

“Pads, if they haven’t healed it could mean they’re serious. You could be really hurt!”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed, thanks Moony,” replied Sirius, snarkily.

Remus softened his tone, reaching forward to lift Sirius’ shirt and look at the dark web of bruises that were scattered along his stomach, even though every fiber of his being never wanted to think about them again. “Sirius…” but the long haired boy swatted his hand away.

Remus sighed. He remembered Sirius’ morbid curiosity second year. He wondered if it was still there.  _ Worth a shot. _

“I’ll show you my newest scar if you show me those,” he offered, gesturing to what they both knew was poorly hidden beneath the white shirt. Sirius’ eyes widened slightly. He thought for a moment, and then nodded, ever so slightly.

Remus shifted to the other side of the room, resting a foot against the rim of the toilet. He tugged down his sock to his ankle and scrunched up his pant leg until it was up to his knee, revealing a long bandage. He unwound it carefully, slowly unveiling a still-healing gash curling up his calf.

Somehow, this felt easier than it usually did to show people his scars.  _ It’s all to make sure Sirius is okay, _ he reminded himself, and the urge to cover up again dimmed.

Sirius’ eyes didn’t budge, and he didn’t flinch, despite how the wound made his stomach twist. “And you did this…”

“Over the summer, yeah.” Remus was all business, already rewrapping his leg, fingers careful as they approached the torn skin. He tried not to let the way Sirius looked at him, the care, the curiosity, burn into the back of his eyelids. “Alright, your turn then.”

Sirius hesitated, but eventually lifted the corner of his shirt, begrudgingly revealing the painful reminders of that night in August. Remus reached out, his voice light and shaking slightly when he asked, “How did this happen?”

Sirius hissed when his fingers connected to the soft skin on his ribcage, despite how gently Remus was touching him. “I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”

“Was it your—”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it, Remus. Please.” Sirius tugged his shirt back down, scowling.

“Fine.” Remus agreed, taking a step back, “but, you have to come to the hospital wing with me. Just to make sure they’re nothing more than bruises.”

“I told you, I’m fine—”

“I know, I know. You’re fine. But you helped me the night you took me to the hospital wing after my anxiety attack—first year, remember? This is my chance to pay you back.” He put on his best Sirius Black puppy dog eye impression, “ _ Please _ ? For me?”

Sirius’ face softened, “Fine, but no more questions after this.”

Remus held out a hand, “No more.”

When Sirius reached out and shook, Remus spelled their hands together. “Hey! What was that for—”

“Just so you don’t get any ideas about running off on the way.”

What Remus hadn’t thought about, in his clever plan to keep Sirius and his hands magically locked together, was that he and Sirius would have to hold hands—all the way to the hospital wing. He felt his cheeks heat up as they walked quickly through the common room. It shouldn’t have been a big deal; they were friends. Friends hugged and wrestled and did a lot more whole a lot closer than holding hands, and Remus couldn’t help noticing the heads turn. Eyes would flash up and down, surveying the scene, and then faces would turn, huddling in a group. Remus’ insides twisted up into knots.

Meanwhile, Sirius was completely oblivious to the attention, too busy trying not to think about when he’d been led by Connor through city blocks like this, and why he enjoyed being dragged around by Remus so much more. Remus' hand fit in his so well, the raised scars brushing against his palm lighting fires in their wake.

The pair reached the hospital wing, both a bit out of breath from walking so fast.

Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them at her desk, and hurried over when she saw Remus. “You’re a bit early dear, did something happen? Another one of your—”

“Actually, it’s not about me this time.”

Sirius raised the hand that wasn’t magically locked in Remus’. “Hi.”

Madame Pomfrey shifted her gaze. “And Mr. Black, how can I help you today?”

Remus peered around the room at the couple of beds with patients, a few of whom were awake and very clearly pretending not to be listening intently. “Can we have a private corner for a moment?”

When they were all settled, Remus explained the situation. Sirius hesitantly lifted up the hem of his shirt to reveal a few of the injuries.

“Oh, my. How did this—”

“No questions. That’s my rule for coming here, okay?”

Madame Pomfrey looked back and forth between Sirius’ hard resolve and Remus’ desperate expression, poorly hiding all the anxiety he was feeling. She took a deep breath, “Fine. But I’m going to need a closer look, so if you could remove your shirt, please.”

Remus looked at Sirius, realizing that he’d need both hands for the task. His cheeks flushed pink once more as he muttered, “I don’t remember the counter jinx.”

Sirius just flashed him a smile, took out his wand, and mumbled a few words. Their hands disconnected. He took off his shirt while Remus processed that Sirius could have undone their hands at any time.

“Remus, if you could just wait outside the curtain for me—”

“But—”

Her voice was quiet but stern. “No buts! Sirius will divulge what he thinks you should know, just as I allow you that same privacy when you’re here.”

So Remus sulked out of the sectioned off portion and slumped into a chair in the waiting area. His leg bounced anxiously as he waited, hearing muted conversation from behind the curtain. Madame Pomfrey had placed a muffling charm on the quadrant.

When Sirius came out again, absent of any visible bandages, Remus jumped to his feet.“So you’re okay?” he asked hopefully.

Sirius gave him a small smile, “Just fine, like I said. But she gave me a bit of tonic so they’ll heal a bit faster.”

“So it did help.”

Sirius slugged an arm around Remus’ shoulders and they made their way out of the hospital wing. “Yes, Rem. You did.”

***

Over the next few days, Remus began to notice murmurs floating around the castle as the Marauders traveled from class to class, or in the Great Hall for breakfast. Significantly fewer (though notably not zero) girls tried to catch Sirius’ attention in the corridors.

“Guess your ‘natural charm’ has worn off a bit, hasn’t it Padfoot?” James teased on the way back from Astronomy one night.

Sirius just shrugged, unbothered. “Couldn’t tell ‘ya.”

As they walked through the portrait hole, James caught the sound of Lily Evans' voice, a sure sign he was going to go find it. “Fifteen points from Gryffindor, each! That is no kind of behavior—”

“Hey Evans,” James sauntered up to where she was telling off a few second years, who looked as if they might cry. “What’re you yelling at these poor souls for? Won’t you have some compassion?” He gave her his biggest pouty eyes, which only made her want to take more points from Gryffindor, though she figured  _ being James Potter _ wouldn’t count as a legitimate reason.

Then she caught sight of Sirius, Remus, and Peter who were trailing behind him. “Oh, uh. I don’t think I should say.” She turned to the group of second years, putting back on her prefect voice, “Now go, and don’t let me catch you acting like that again.”

“C’mon now, you can tell me! What’ve they done that I haven’t, right? No judgement.” He seemed to think this was a clever comment. Lily very clearly did not agree.

“They were simply spreading mindless gossip and—”

“Fifteen points each for gossiping? Either you’re lying Evans, or it was some juicy news. Let’s hear it.”

Remus saw the nervous look passing over Lily’s face, biting her lip and eyeing Sirius with an anxious expression. “Leave her alone, James. I’m sure she had a perfectly good reason—”

“Nah, I wanna hear it too,” Sirius cut him off, slinging an arm on Remus’ shoulder. “What rumors were these nasty little second years spreading?”

Lily sighed, “Look, I don’t think I should tell you this—and I don’t know where they heard it, or maybe they just made it up themselves but—”

“Get on with it, Evans, we’ve got places to go, people to see!” Sirius teased.

“Sirius, well—in kinder terms—they were saying they think you’re gay.”

The group paused for a moment. Then James burst out laughing. “That’s it? Fifteen points each for calling Sirius—I mean,  _ Sirius Black _ , Mr. Ladykiller right over here, a homo?”

A blush rose in Lily’s cheeks, “James! It’s serious. Spreading rumors like that—”

“What do you mean? It’s harmless, isn’t it? It’s not like it’s anything  _ true _ .”

“Right…” Sirius glanced down, composing himself as the thoughts flew around in his head.  _ No one knew about this summer, did they? They couldn’t have. But then why— _

He looked up, fake laughter plastered on his face, “Lily, I really do appreciate you  _ protecting my honor _ or whatever, but really, next time just a telling off will do.” He gestured to his friends around him, “We lose enough house points as it is, no need for you to take them away for petty rumor spreading.”

But the gossip continued to follow the boys around. James kept brushing it off, saying they were just jealous they didn’t look like Sirius. Peter chimed in with the very unhelpful comment that Sirius could get any girl he wanted and shut down the rumors immediately. Only Remus seemed to even realize that the gossip was kind of getting to Sirius. Not in any way that he showed to the public, he’d laugh it off at lunch, smile along with the boys in charms, but at night. He didn’t sleep much anymore. They’d gotten in the habit of leaving their curtains open at the end of the last year, just on the sides that faced each other, in case nightmares struck. Remus didn’t think Sirius knew he could see in the dark. Sirius spent too many nights sitting in his bed, legs curled up to his chest, thinking. Staring at the moon.

Sirius didn’t know what to do. He supposed he could take Peter’s advice, grab any girl and kiss her—fake date for a few weeks before breaking her heart, but if he was honest, the idea of kissing a girl made him a bit sick. That didn’t feel very heterosexual to him.

And yet, he just couldn’t admit to himself, let alone the whole school, that he probably was gay.

He thought he could take it. He could deal with running from the cops, his father’s punches that left stary bruises for weeks, and his mother’s screaming insults that echoed in his head whenever darkness fell, what was a few more students’ speculation?

***


	16. October and November, 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brotherhood. Sirius' lowest point and a bit of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: huge warning for attempted suicide, homophobia, and brief usage of homophobic slurs this chapter. proceed with caution and take care of yourselves :)

###  October, 1975

Sirius had thought he could handle it. That was, until October 11th hit.

Sirius was walking down the winding corridors, chased by a few comments from arrogant nobodies who thought yelling, “Gayyyy” at him would do much. People had become much more verbal in the past few weeks, tiring of the whispers that clearly weren’t bothering him enough. They always hid in crowds, though, too scared to put a face to the insult.

It wasn’t until he ran into his brother that things took a turn for the worse. He was alone, and done with all his classes, ready for a night of mischief with the Marauders, like always. He spotted Regulus, and shouted for him to wait.

Pulling him aside in an empty classroom, Sirius put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about all this, I dunno where all the rumors started but I know it must be weird for you—”

Regulus shook Sirius’ hand off. “God, don’t you get it? They aren’t rumors, are they? I heard mom and dad, the shouting from that night—you go to those fucking queer clubs and…” he shivered, “I don’t even wanna know what you do there. I can’t help it that people think it’s a bit funny, taking something and run with it—”

“Wait.” Sirius looked his brother straight in the eye and didn’t recognize the boy staring back at him. He blinked, realization washing over him and turning his bones to ice. “Are you saying… it was  _ you _ ? You started these fucking rumors—”

“I told you, it isn’t a rumor if it’s true! So what if I told a couple of people you’re a fuckin’ fag it’s not like they wouldn’t’ve found out with the way you flaunt around with that curly haired boyfriend of yours—”

Sirius’ heart was skipping beats, but he was furious, “Remus? You think he’s my  _ boyfriend _ ? He’s just one of my friends, Merlin, you fucking prat—”

“I don’t care what you tell yourself to get through the night, Sirius, but I’ve asked you time and time again to stay the fuck away from me. So  _ do it _ .”

He left without another word, slamming the door shut behind him. The sudden noise made Sirius flinch.

And Sirius just stood there in the empty classroom, heart pounding, barely able to process what had happened.

He didn’t go back to the room that night.

Remus only noticed after the others had gone to bed. They’d figured Sirius was out studying or finally getting with some random sixth year girl to quell the gossip. But the moon was high and it was getting well past time for Sirius to head to sleep as well.

Quickly, to calm the racing thoughts in his head, Remus dug out the spare bit of parchment he and the boys had been experimenting on. It didn’t work nearly like how Remus had imagined it, and there was much work to be done, but it could show someone’s location, as long as you focused enough.

Remus made himself a deal, if Sirius was in the library or any of the classrooms, he would go to bed. Unfortunately, this was not the case.

When Remus whispered, “Sirius Black,” into the folds of the parchment, two words dissolved onto the page, unbearably slow.  _ Astronomy Tower. _

“Shit—” Remus cursed, scrambling out of bed as quietly as he could.

He ran all the way up, taking steps two at a time, panting by the time he reached the top of the long, winding staircase. His right knee screamed in protest at the heavy impact. “Sirius!” Remus shouted into the darkness as his eyes adjusted. His voice came out broken and strained from the sprint. Movement came from his left, and for once in his life, Remus thanked his heightened senses close to the full moon.

His heart stopped when he saw his friend sitting on the railing, legs dangling carelessly over the edge. His back was hunched, revealing the vague curve of his spine through the back of his shirt. Long hair spilled across his face, and Remus thought he might be crying. He approached quickly, but slowed down so he could put a gentle hand on Sirius’ back.

“Hey, you okay?” Remus immediately wanted to punch himself in the face because it could not be any more clear that Sirius was not okay.  _ Stupid. _ Sirius opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t get any words out. Remus reached out and held one of his hands lightly. “Let’s get you down from there—”

But Sirius shook his head violently, so much so that Remus thought he was going to slip off, “Okay, okay.” Remus’ heart beat fast and heavy. He took a deep breath, brain flying at a million miles per hour. “Can I join you?”

When Sirius didn’t respond, Remus slid his legs over the railing and sat, trying to ignore every ounce of anxiety that was screaming at him to turn around. Heights were not his thing. A bitter, cold wind blew through the pair and Remus shivered faintly.

He racked his brain for something to say. Eventually he managed to spit out, “Is there anything I can do?” grabbing hold of Sirius’ other hand, squeezing. Still silence. Until—

“It was him.” Sirius’ voice was cracked and broken, so quiet Remus had to lean in to hear him. “They got him.”

“Him?” Remus asked lightly, trying to follow.

“Regulus." The anguish in Sirius' voice tore Remus' heart to shreds. "They got—he was the…” but he trailed off, trying to hold back sobs. It was a while before he could speak again. “He was the one who started all those rumors. The—” he choked on the words, their bitter taste thick in his throat, “gay comments, or whatever…”

Remus tried to extinguish the rapidly growing fire in his chest that shouted for Regulus’ immediate demise for such an act. There were more important matters at hand, namely, his best friend sitting carelessly on a railing at the highest point in the castle. “Are you sure?”

Sirius slumped further, and Remus put a hand behind his back to keep him from falling either way. It was strong and gentle and soft and Sirius felt as though it was the only thing holding him to the Earth. “He told me himself. Said that I was a fag and he wanted nothing to do with me.” He buried his face in his hands, unable to keep the tears from streaming. “He’s a good kid. I know—it doesn’t sound like it, but I  _ know _ him. He’s not like this. It’s just the people he’s around all the time are like this and he tries so hard to please everybody and—” Sirius cut himself off, his voice growing even lower. “Just… what if he’s right? What if they’re all—”

Remus’ heart tightened like a fist. “He’s not.” His voice rang out louder and sharper than he intended, his anger barely contained. He winced at the volume, actively softening a bit, “Sirius, you have to believe me. There is no world in which what he did was okay.” He began rubbing small circles on Sirius’ back, hoping that somehow it could ease his own anxiety and calm Sirius just a bit. “You’re worth so much more than the stupid things he says about you.”

“But…” Sirius shook his head, “Look, I can deal with my parents hating me, it’s been like that for years… though I guess maybe it’s been like this with Regulus for a while too, I’ve just been holding on to false hope.” Sirius seemed to finally become aware of where he was and who was with him. “Moony, you don’t have to stay up here, you know. I—I’m okay. It’s late, you should be getting back t—”

“I’m not going anywhere Sirius. It’s okay. I’m not even tired.” This was a lie, of course. He was exhausted, and freezing, cursing that he hadn’t had the forethought to bring a jacket with him. Why had he thought his thin pajamas would stand against the icy autumn winds?

But there were much more important things at hand, he reminded himself again. He tried to start anew, “Can we maybe get off the railing though?”

Sirius stuttered for a moment but couldn’t think of a legitimate reason to stay. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” His bloodshot eyes took one more glance at the dark grounds in front of him. The gravitational pull seemed to tighten for just a moment and Sirius found himself tempted once more—But Remus had extended a hand, the criss cross scars on his palm looking as if they were glowing in the pale moonlight, and Sirius took it, if only for another point of connection. Everything was cold except for the spot where they were touching—that burned like the flame that had seared Sirius’ portrait off of the family tree back home.

He slid off the railing and headed further inside the Astronomy Tower. A bit of clarity had broken through the haze in his mind and he didn’t trust himself by the ledge any longer. When Sirius next spoke, it was a hoarse whisper. “I don’t think I can go back there. To my parent’s house, I mean.”

Remus nodded. “We’ll work something out then. But not tonight, okay? We should both be getting to bed.”

Sirius didn’t speak again until they reached the top of the staircase that led up to their dormitory. He grabbed Remus’ arm lightly and stopped, “Do you think… uh, I could sleep in your bed tonight?” His cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. “Nevermind, it was stupid, sorry—”

“Sirius,” Remus lay a hand over where Sirius was still holding on to his sleeve. It sent shivers up Sirius’ spine.  _ Probably just the lasting cold.  _ “Of course you can. Don’t apologize.”

So they climbed into Remus’ bed, Sirius curled into a ball on the edge, not wanting to take up too much space, with Remus' long arms wrapped around him, heartbeat thudding against Sirius’ chest. Remus’ head was spinning too much to realize Sirius’ heart was beating just as fast. But after a while, under the watchful eye of a gentle moon, both hearts slowed, and the pair fell asleep.

It was early in the morning when Sirius woke, just a few rays of sunshine peeking through the window curtains into the messy dormitory. He slipped out of Remus’ bed gently, looking back at the messy curls on the boy whose arms he’d slept in all night. Without thinking, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his friend’s temple.

Remus woke up alone in his bed a few hours later, wondering if it’d all been a dream. But when his eyes found Sirius, who was sitting up, fully dressed for the day on a neat, un-slept-in bed, he smiled sheepishly. And Remus smiled back.

***

###  November, 1975

The next month passed without significant incident; Sirius’ injuries healed, and eventually Remus stopped looking at him with worry in his eyes every time he thought Sirius couldn’t see. The Marauders snuck out for Remus’ transformations, and Lily carried significant weight as the only Gryffindor prefect who actually knew what was going on at most times. Remus tried apologizing a few times, but eventually gave up, realizing that she was going to have to remind him about nearly all their responsibilities.

Sirius’ sixteenth birthday was fast approaching, only a few days away. The gossip surrounding his sexuality had died down, if only a little, as people grew bored. Neither Sirius nor Remus mentioned the night at the Astronomy Tower to anyone.

But it played through Sirius’ mind on repeat nearly every night before bed.

He thought of Remus’s gentle hands, tracing circles on his back, the way his arms had wrapped him up so tight, the softness with which he spoke. The way he had looked sleeping, long arms still reaching out to wrap around Sirius’ torso.

Thinking about Remus Lupin became a hobby for Sirius. When the Marauders were sneaking around, or testing out new spells for their locator map, Sirius often found himself staring at the curls he’d kissed that night. It always began with how tall he’d grown. He had at least a head over Sirius and for some reason that drove him crazy. But after a while, the shock of growth wore off, in favor of fantasies of the future. He let his mind wander to how badly he wanted to be in Remus’ arms again; he’d felt so safe, tucked in tight against Remus’ chest. Sirius thought about how much he wanted to show Remus the people he’d met over the summer, the way they could be anyone and everyone all at once. He wondered if Remus would have fun at the clubs, dancing and forgetting about everything else. They wouldn’t say anything about his scars—everyone had something to hide there. He wondered if he’d ever get to slow dance, in the soft moonlight, with Remus’ arms wrapped around him and their bodies pressed close, swaying to the music of the night.

The night of Sirius’ birthday, he found himself by the fire, opening presents from his best friends. Peter had gotten him the usual—sweets and some new items from Zonko’s Joke Shop. Remus pulled out a messily wrapped parcel filled with a special hairbrush and some assorted accessories.

“Are you saying you don’t like my hair, Moony?” Sirius said, faking offense.

Remus blushed as the other boys laughed, “No, not at all,” he started hastily, “I just figured you might wanna learn to do something with it that wasn’t just having it hang in your face all the time.” He pointed to a book at the bottom, a guide for long hairstyles. Sirius laughed with the others, but flipped through, intrigued. “Well, points for creativity, Rem.”

When Sirius was done admiring the package, he turned to James, who only held a solitary envelope in his open hands. “That’s it, Prongs? A note? I thought you liked me better than this, ouch,” Sirius joked.

“Just read it,” James gave him a nervous grin, eyes flashing to Remus for a moment.

“Alright, alright, I’m opening it.” Sirius struggled with the envelope for a moment then procured a letter. “A note from your  _ parents _ ? You couldn’t even write it yourself, c’mon man.”

James pushed him again, “Just read it!” he insisted.

So Sirius read.

_ Dear Sirius, _

_ We are wishing you a very happy birthday, it’s not everyday your young man turns sixteen! You’re nearly of age—how the time flies. We still remember when you first came over in third year, so polite and kind, and, of course, when James came rushing home after his first year, gushing about his new best friend named Sirius. It has come to our attention that you have had some trouble at home and are looking for other arrangements. We hope we aren’t overstepping our bounds, but we’d like to offer you a place in our home for as long as you need it— _

Sirius tore his eyes from the paper, looking up in disbelief. “Are you serious?” He gazed back and forth between Remus and James, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. He blinked them back and kept reading.

_ …as long as you need it. James has always thought of you as a brother, and we would be delighted to have a second son. Please write back to let us know and we will start setting up your bedroom immediately. _

_ Sending all our love and support and wishing you a very happy birthday, _

_ Euphemia and Fleamont Potter _

Sirius tackled his friends in a hug, tears flowing freely now. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated. “I could kiss you right now, Potter.”

“Whoa, save that for the ladies Pads!” James joked, but he held his friend tighter. “So you say yes? You’re gonna come live with us?”

Sirius wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, “Yes!”

“Smile!” Remus’ voice caught his attention and Sirius looked over, still smiling wider than he ever had. A flash, and the moment was captured, James and Sirius’ first embrace as true brothers. Happiness radiated from every inch of the polaroid.

Sirius looked up at Remus, “This your idea?”

The other boy just shrugged and gave him a small smile. “We all talked about it and figured James’ was the best place to be. They love you there, and he’s got more than enough space—” but Sirius pulled him into another crushing hug before he could keep rambling.

“Thank you, Rem. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.”

***

Sirius’ various crises over Remus Lupin began slowly. He sat by the fire in the common room—easily his favorite spot ever since he realized Remus tended to curl up in an armchair behind him, though he’d never dared to turn around and risk staring; his presence itself was comforting. Visions swirled about in his head, of Remus holding his hand, of the gentle smiles and unreadable gazes that Sirius could almost imagine held a special sort of fondness—before, of course, he snapped himself out of his own foolish, lovesick trance. He buried his face in his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as if he could erase the pattern of Remus’ freckles like constellations out of his mind. It was useless.

The act, however, managed to capture Remus’ attention.

Sirius heard a book close gently, then Remus plopped down next to Sirius in front of the fire. He gazed at the warm, glowing embers, heat barely flushing his cheeks a rosy pink.

At first, neither boy said anything. They didn’t need to. Remus simply sat, shoulder lightly pressed to Sirius’ arm in a silent  _ I’m here if you need me _ . The muffled conversations across the common room filled in the space between their seated bodies, so close Sirius could almost imagine how little energy it would take to shift his hand, and entwine their smallest fingers. The thought exhilarated and terrified him.

Remus had learned by then that too many words had the adverse effect when trying to connect with Sirius. It was better to just  _ be there  _ and let him talk when he was ready. He prided himself of being level-headed in most circumstances, able to see some rationality, some sense, even when his friends could not, but when it came to comforting Sirius he was prone to slip back into stuttering and stumbling over his words. Try as he might, he never felt as if he had the right thing to say. He’d always been better on paper than in person. So unlike Sirius Black.

Sirius thought Remus always knew what to do, what to say. Before Hogwarts, he had always hated silence. Silence always followed an argument, and sometimes that very same silence was what led into the next argument.

But not with Remus, nor any of the boys—though it wasn’t all that often that James would shut up for a period of time long enough to be considered a mere moment of silence. But without him, and, of course, Peter, for wherever James went, Peter was never far behind, Remus and Sirius sat in silence.

Sirius didn’t lift his head, just let the familiar closeness calm him down. Though his heartbeat remained uneven, spiking each time Remus shifted and their arms brushed carefully against one another, it’s thudding in his ears was replaced by the crackling of the fire, and his breathing slowed.

When Sirius was sure no tears had fallen and his breaths were steady, he brought his head from his hands and laid it to rest on Remus’ shoulder. He let the fire warm his face.

“What’re you reading?” Sirius whispered.

This seemed to not be what Remus was expecting. “What am I—hm?” he asked, brain still processing the shift in the mood.

“That book you were reading. Must be a good one, you’ve hardly put it down all week.”

Remus’ mouth curled into a small smile. “Oh, yeah. It’s this one about magical creatures, how they interact with muggle nature and such.” He’d begun mixing a few nonfiction books in with the regular rotation of escapist novels and delightedly found them quite captivating.

Sirius knocked Remus’ shoulder gently. “Nerd,” he teased.

Remus pushed back, just enough to lift Sirius' head off his shoulder for a moment. He missed the connection, even in the split second they were apart. “Oh come off it. It’s actually some fascinating stuff.”

Sirius shifted, laying his head in Remus’ lap and closing his eyes, just as he had nearly two years prior in the Potter’s living room. “Tell me about it,” he requested earnestly, after a few moment’s pause.

“You don’t know, or care, about magical creatures.” It was true.

“But you do.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i very intentionally did not end this chapter right after sirius' night on the astronomy tower as, first and foremost, i want this to be a story of hope and happiness. it is the same reason that this story, if all goes as planned, will end on a good note - the potter's wedding. there is enough room in this life (and, my god, in this fandom of ours) to dwell on death and despair elsewhere. 
> 
> if you are considering thoughts of self harm or suicide, please reach out to someone you love or call the hotline: 800-273-8255


	17. December, 1975 and January, February, and March 1976

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A number of missed exchanges to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: very brief mention of self-harm

### December, 1975

James Potter came panting into the Shrieking Shack, a panicked expression on his face, and Remus nearly thought the other boys had been caught. That was, until Sirius and Peter slid into the room themselves, nearly collapsing from laughter. Sirius could barely breathe, and it only got worse when Peter snorted accidentally.

“Moony!” James exclaimed, “you’d know something about this—It’s not _funny_ Sirius!” He shoved the long haired boy away, still breathing heavily, “Moony, my antlers—they’re… gone I dunno!” He transformed to prove it, and he was right, a panicked-looking, antler-free stag stood in the middle of the dark room. Then James was back, staring desperately around at his friends. “Somebody help me!”

“It means you’re dying—” Sirius began, taking in a big breath and trying to keep a straight face.

James practically jumped out of his own skin, “WHAT?!”

“Sirius!” Remus reprimanded, though he couldn’t help but laugh at James’ gullibility. He had always been loyal to a fault, and believed his friends even when it couldn’t have been more clear that Sirius was joking. “—you’re not dying, James.”

The look of relief was fleeting, “Then what’s wrong with me?”

Remus stifled his laughter as he admitted, “It’s normal.”

“Normal?” James questioned, as if that couldn’t possibly be true.

“Yeah, normal. Stags lose their antlers in the winter and regrow them later in the season.”

James’ eyes widened. “You mean, this is gonna happen every year?” he asked incredulously. “That sucks.”

He could be so blind sometimes. They were standing in the Shrieking Shack, waiting for Remus to undergo his monthly transformation into a deadly creature that had self-harm tendencies when it wasn’t allowed to feast on wizards, and James was worried about his animagus losing its horns naturally once a year. The innocence of fifteen would be missed when they were older.

***

Remus Lupin was all oversized sweaters with denim jackets, and abandoned hot chocolate mugs scattered around the common room, and mismatched socks, and curly hair falling in his eyes, and Sirius felt like he was drowning in it. Worst of all, Remus Lupin had saved his life—twice, if he counted finding him a new place to live. It was devastating.

Sirius couldn’t stop thinking about him, the way he curled up by the fire with a good book and ended up in the strangest of positions, the way he chewed the end of his quill when he was thinking, the nervous smiles he gave Sirius when he worried about him.

Remus worried about him. He cared about him. And that terrified and excited Sirius in a way he’d never known.

Sirius was starting to think that maybe Connor, and the people at the clubs, and now the rest of the school, was right, and he actually was gay. And maybe that was okay. If being gay meant Sirius could spend every night wrapped up in Remus’ arms like he had the night after the Astronomy Tower, Sirius would gladly be gay. Really, really gay.

It was the night after everyone else had left to go back home for the holidays. James had asked Sirius if he wanted to come along, but he’d declined. “I don’t wanna intrude on your Christmas, and plus, I like my traditions—Christmas at Hogwarts with Moony.” If he was being honest, the idea of spending Christmas with a new family was too daunting to tackle yet. No matter how much James insisted, Sirius refused, so eventually James packed up and went home. “Send them my love! And tell them thank you again.”

That’s how Sirius found himself sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, reading his book on haircare, which was actually quite fascinating (who knew hair could do all this stuff?) with a sleepy Remus Lupin falling asleep on his shoulder. The latter made it considerably harder to focus on the words in front of him.

So he put the book down and thought. Sirius wondered if he should tell his friend how much he meant to him. Was that awkward? How would he do that? Did this count as a crush?

Sirius had never really been at such a lack for words. He usually knew just what to say, coming up with witty one liners without thinking, but when it came to Remus his mouth ran dry. He wondered if Remus could tell. He hoped not. Merlin, that would be so embarrassing.

Remus, to Sirius’ luck, couldn’t tell. But it was only because he, himself, was so caught up, wondering what to say and how to act and mentally speculating whether Sirius was actually gay or not and if he was gay what the chances were that he liked Remus (probably slim, Remus figured), to even think about how quickly Sirius was responding.

He couldn’t make sense of the night after the Astronomy Tower, how they’d slept, curled up together, but Sirius had been gone before the sun had risen. He couldn’t make sense of the time he’d locked his and Sirius’ hands together, only for Sirius to reveal he could have undone the spell at any time. He couldn’t make sense of the way Sirius traced patterns into his hands when he thought Remus was sleeping.

In short, both Remus and Sirius were so incredibly into each other that they couldn’t even fathom the other being into them, let alone acting on their attraction.

So on Christmas Eve, when Sirius, cheeks bright pink (probably from their just being outside in the snow, Remus reckoned) suggested they maybe, possibly, sleep in the same bed again, Remus asked him if he’d been having nightmares. And Sirius, unsure of how to say _no, I just want to sleep in your embrace another night,_ said yes. It wasn’t completely a lie. Sirius still sometimes heard the echoing voices of his parents at night, or Regulus’ insults, when everything was silent and still.

And then, on Christmas day, when Remus woke up, face only a few inches from Sirius’, legs tangled under the covers, felt compelled to hold him closer, hug him tighter, Sirius told himself it was just because Remus was cold, and shifted, still pretending to be asleep, so the covers lay mostly on top of Remus.

They opened presents later that morning, sitting together on Remus’ bed. They ate the sweets and chocolates that had been sent, and Remus hit Sirius with the sleeve of his sweater when he stole a few out from Remus’ pile. It wasn’t until Sirius unwrapped a very thin, square shaped package from Lily (“I’m getting packages from Evans now? James might actually kill me.”) that things took a turn.

It had come with Remus’ present, wrapped securely with a note that said:

_Give this to Sirius for me, I think he’d like it. There’s a player in the spare classroom two to the left of McGonagall’s office if you don’t have one. Tell him it’s a muggle band—oh and I suggest starting with Side Two, Track Four. It’s been a big hit back home._

_Sending my love,_

_Lily_

Sirius took the package and flipped it over. On the white cover was a strange emblem, some sort of crest with a few animals—a swan, two lions? Sirius couldn’t make sense of it, so he moved on to the title.

“Queen, A Night At The Opera.” He looked up at Remus, looking puzzled. “D’you know what this means?”

Remus laughed. “It’s a vinyl record—it’s music.”

Sirius looked down at the large black disk he’d taken out of the folder. He didn’t see how it could be music at all, but he thought it did look vaguely familiar. Then he put his finger on it; he’d seen something similar at Fangs—a guy at a table had a bunch of them and was rotating through them all night.

He hoped it wasn’t opera, his mother had tried to take him to one once, and it had not gone well. Long story short, apparently the stage was for actors and crew only and they did not appreciate discovering a very well dressed nine year old hidden behind one of the set pieces midway through the first act.

“So… Do we find that record player by McGonagall’s office?”

So the boys walked out into the halls, Remus wearing striped pajama bottoms and an oversized sweater, Sirius in sweatpants and a t-shirt. There was no need to get dressed up when they were unlikely to see anyone else. They found the room Lily had mentioned and crept in.

Sirius stared at the flips and switches and knobs, unsure of where to start. Remus laughed and took the record from him. He turned it to side two, and dropped the needle on the fourth track, just as Lily had instructed.

For a moment, only soft, crackling white noise filled the room. Then, suddenly:

_Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality…_

Mystical harmonies filled the room. Remus cast a quick muffling charm so no one outside of the room would hear. Sirius just stood, mesmerized. The minutes passed by in only seconds, and with every genre change, Sirius got more into the song until he was dancing around the room, grabbing onto Remus’ hands and pulling him to dance too.

Neither spoke until the final _any way the wind blows_ had faded out. Remus lifted the needle. Sirius breathed heavily, tired from dancing, “Now, that’s magic.” His wide smile hadn’t faded since the song had started, “Can you play it again?”

Remus was just happy to watch Sirius get so excited, so they listened to Bohemian Rhapsody again, then the whole album, then Bohemian Rhapsody one last time.

***

### January, 1976

“And this is when the operatic section comes in—” Sirius was gushing to James and Peter, having smuggled the record player back to their dormitory for their first night back. Remus was beginning to curse Lily for introducing Sirius to Queen, because as much as he loved seeing Sirius’ bright smiles, he didn’t know how many times he could hear the same twelve songs over and over again. He did quite like The Prophet’s Song, but even that was growing just a _bit_ old.

“Operatic section?” Peter asked, “Does it ever end? It feels like it’s gone on for ages—”

“Oh c’mon Wormtail, it’s just a few minutes.”

“Yeah Wormy! This is great—where’d you say you got it from again?” James chimed in, but Sirius pretended as if he hadn’t heard, singing along.

“Mamma mia, let me go!”

James joined and Peter and Remus covered their ears, sharing a pained laugh. Of all the many talents James Potter possessed, singing in tune was not one of them.

***

### February, 1976

A number of missed exchanges occurred between Sirius and Remus during their fifth year. To any outsider, it was incredibly clear both were desperately reaching out, yearning for the other to pick up on the terrible hints they’d dropped. Neither ever did.

For one thing, Remus found himself zoning out, fiddling with the multitude of rings on Sirius’ fingers, twisting them with absentminded attentiveness. Sirius was happy for the connection, as close as it was to holding hands. It made him feel special in a way that he couldn’t have expressed if asked. Neither addressed the nervous tic outside of the moment, but Sirius’ wouldn’t dream of pulling his hand away.

Another moment, bored while completing what seemed like an endless pile of homework, Remus asked, “Our meetings with McGonagall are soon aren’t they? To discuss what we wanna be when we grow up?”

Sirius half-shrugged, “I’m not the one to ask. Probably.”

“What do you think you’ll say? What do you wanna be, I mean—I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

“A criminal,” Sirius deadpanned, leaning back and kicking his feet up onto the table for effect.

“Oh, c’mon, be serious.”

“I’m always Sirius.” The comment earned him a hard smack to the shoulder. He’d been making the same lame joke since James had pointed it out first year, and it hadn’t gotten funnier since. “I dunno. I’ve never really thought about it much. What do you wanna be? Maybe I’ll just follow along, be your assistant.”

“I think I’d like to be a teacher,” Remus confessed. He’d never told anyone that before. Werewolves didn’t have many career prospects, especially any around children.

Sirius just grinned, “You’d make a good one.”

Remus practically glowed, “You think so?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re kind and patient and—really smart.” Sirius caught himself before falling into a long tangent of just how brilliant Remus Lupin was.

Remus didn’t even notice.

And even later, in a corner of the dormitory, when the other boys were elsewhere, wreaking havoc or whatever they got up to while Sirius and Remus were busy blindly flirting, Sirius noted how much sleeping in Remus’ bed helped him sleep.

He coughed, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno if it’s just the weight of your arm over me… but it’s warm and cozy. I—uh, really like it.” He desperately wished Remus would catch the hint that he wanted to sleep there every night, curled up tight and safe. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d even be invited to cuddle before the other boys came back.

Instead, Remus excitedly introduced him to the muggle concept of a weighted blanket.

***

### March, 1976

Remus’ birthday was coming up and Sirius had no idea what to get him. What kind of present says “I care about you a lot, more than a friend, but we are currently friends and I’m not sure if you’d want to change that?”

So Sirius sent a desperate letter to Alexander, who was very confused at why an owl showed up outside a thrift store in the middle of London, with an envelope clutched in its beak. It was actually much more than a letter, and probably the longest essay Sirius had ever written, essentially chronicling every moment Sirius and Remus had spent together, and every small detail Sirius could remember about what he liked. Nevertheless, Alexander weeded through the notes and sent a quick note back, the very same owl stealing the paper from his hands before he could put it in a mailbox.

Sirius’ laughed at Alexander’s confusion over the owl while reading the response at a table in the library, drawing Remus’ attention from the potions essay he’d been writing. He read the letter over Sirius’ shoulder—its paper and pen format standing out amongst the piles of quills and parchment around them. “Who’s Alexander?”

Sirius folded the paper quickly, hoping Remus’ hadn’t read all the birthday gift ideas. “Oh, just a muggle friend I met over the summer. He’s the one who gave me all the style advice, ya know, with the leather jacket and stuff.”

Remus’ smile dropped, if only slightly, “Oh, cool.”

Sirius barely noticed the tone shift, too busy replying, telling Alexander that he was a genius and if he could please send everything back with the owl (and not to question his mail delivery choices as he had no explanation).

Remus watches as Sirius frantically and excitedly wrote to his “muggle friend,” thoughts swirling around in his head. He let it go, trying not to think about what kind of friend Sirius could possibly be so excited to write to.

He’d basically forgotten about it, until his birthday came along, when he opened two soft, lumpy packages from Sirius. The first was a sage green sweater, nearly identical to the one he’d gotten him first year for Christmas, except this one had a purple flower stitched in on the left side, so it lay over his heart when he put it on.

In the second, a maroon sweatshirt. It looked plain, until Sirius told him excitedly to, “Look on the sleeve!” On the inside right arm, down by his wrists, a few words were messily sewn in with white string.

 _As you wish_ with a lopsided heart beside it.

Remus looked up at Sirius. “Like that book you read me in third year! I did the stitching myself, sorry it’s a bit messy… Like it?”

Remus smiled. “I love it.”

Once again, Sirius failed to read the moment, “Alexander helped me come up with the idea! He’s much smarter than me with this kinda stuff.”

Remus tried not to let the instant drop in his mood reflect on his face.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my attempt at being funny, i sure hope you enjoyed since i laugh every time i read through this chapter :)


	18. May, June, and July 1976

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maurader's Map. Sirius moves in with the Potters, and consequently moves out of 12 Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July, 1976 is a bittersweet triumph. No significant content warnings but read carefully and be gentle with yourself.

### May, 1976

Lily was getting a bit tired of hearing about Sirius Black. Not that she didn’t love Remus with all her heart, but there were only so many times Remus could gush about how good his hair looked in a bun, as he’d recently been styling it, before she could crack.

“Remus, why don’t you just ask if he wants to go on a date with you?”

He looked at her like she’d suggested he spell Sirius’ name in the sky riding a hippogriff. They were walking to the library, Remus having abandoned his friends when they started throwing his study notes around as enchanted paper airplanes in the common room.

“I’m serious! What’s the worst thing that happens, he says no?”

“Yes! Exactly, and then our friendship is over and I ruin the whole dynamic of the Marauders and—”

“Remus. Calm down.” Lily was used to his anxious rambling by now and knew to stop him before it got out of hand. “He says no, you say ‘okay, cool’ and you both move on with your lives. Would that be so bad?”

“So you think he’s gonna say no?”

Lily rolled her eyes, exasperated. “No, I think he’s bloody well in love with you too but—”

“Oh, shove off Lily. Don’t get my hopes up.”

They didn’t talk much the rest of the way to the library, nor while they were studying. But every so often, Remus would pop his head up and ask something along the lines of, “So, if I were to maybe ask him—how would I go about that?” and, “Do you think writing down what I have to say is too much? I feel like I would mess it up…”

Lily tried to give her best advice. If she was honest, she really thought Remus didn’t have to worry so much, as it was quite clear to anyone with eyes (excluding James and Peter, of course, because they were both walking walls who barely observed anything that didn’t directly relate to them in some way) that Sirius was also very much into Remus.

She didn’t want to push it, though, as she’d been wrong before. She had been absolutely sure, each year, that after the summer, James Potter would have finally gotten over his crush on her and would let her have a normal year, completely uninterrupted by some lame spectacle designed to get her to fall madly in love with her. And she’d thought Severus wouldn’t fall prey to the blood-purist idiots around him.

It had been a while since Lily thought about Severus. Of course, she still saw him occasionally, at home over the summer or during a holiday, but for the most part she avoided him. He’d tried to apologize, more than once, but there were some things that made apologies meaningless, especially since he hadn’t changed who he was, nor who he hung out with in the slightest.

No, Lily was done with him. And she was grateful for it. It was only after she’d taken a step back that she realized just how one sided the ‘friendship’ had become, and just how much she had let slip by without holding him accountable.

She was pushed out of her trance when Remus shut his book loudly. “I think that’s all the studying I can do today, no way I can focus any later.”

“Is it… soon?” Lily asked. He knew what she was talking about.

He nodded solemnly, “Tomorrow.”

“They seem to be going better than usual this year,” Lily noted, sneaking a sideways glance at him. He hadn’t told her about his friends’ secret animagi status, though he was honestly surprised James hadn’t let it slip at some point while trying to impress her.

“They have been.” Remus added casually. He knew she was curious, and only trying to look out for him, but it felt like something special, something only the Marauders knew. And he wasn’t ready to give that up.

Lily then remembered what she had read in the paper earlier that morning. She gasped and dug through her bag, pulling out the article that she had ripped out. “Did you see this in The Daily Prophet this morning? There’s a wizard who’s trying to invent a potion that partially cures—” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “lycanthropy!”

Remus, while interested in the idea of a solution—even if it was temporary, or in the works—was even more captivated by the words on the back of the article. Written in little words were the spell that none of the boys had tried yet, that just might be the code to creating—

“That’s such great news. Well, thanks for the study sesh Lil, but I gotta go—” Remus snatched the piece of paper out of her hands and ran hastily out of the library, leaving Lily, very confused, sitting at a table surrounded by open books and strewn papers.

Remus jogged all the way to Gryffindor tower, reading and rereading the slip of paper in his hands. When he burst through the portrait hole, the rest of the Marauders’ turned to him.

“Hey, Rem! What’s—”

“I’ve got it,” was all Remus could say, panting. He laid down the paper and pointed at the spell. “I think that’s the key.”

The other three boys leaned in to read it, then leapt to their feet, practically sprinting up the staircase to their dormitory.

“Moony! You’re a genius,” Peter began.

“Don’t thank me just yet, we gotta make sure it works,” Remus replied, digging through his trunk for the spare bit of parchment they’d been experimenting on. While he searched, the other boys took a seat on his bed, creating a tight circle. Remus grabbed his wand, muttered the spell, and watched as a full map of Hogwarts unfolded in front of him, complete with little labeled footprints of each person in the castle.

James let out a _whoop_ of excitement and then they were all shouting.

“Hold on! We can’t let just anyone see this, right?” Sirius added, after the celebration had died down a bit. “I suggest we lock it, with a phrase only we’d know.”

James whipped out his wand immediately. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he said in a pompous voice, tapping the page once.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Really James? Nice and catchy.”

“Yeah, _definitely_ makes us seem like upstanding characters in history,” Remus added.

“Do we _want_ to be seen as _upstanding characters_? We’re the Marauders! What’re you on Remus, we’re using this to sneak around the school easier, or did you have a change of heart since becoming a prefect?” The boys laughed at this, considering Remus was the one to lead the charge on most of the map making—and probably the worst prefect in school history.

“And to close it again?” Peter asked.

“Keep it short and sweet this time, please,” Remus added, eyeing James.

Sirius stepped up, clearing his throat. “Mischief managed.” He tapped the map with his wand and the ink melted away, leaving Remus holding what appeared to be an average piece of parchment again.

“We should give it a name,” Sirius suggested.

Remus replied instantly, “The Marauder’s Map.” He blushed when the others looked at him, “What? I had time so I thought about it.”

Peter tapped his own wand on the parchment, putting on the same pompous accent James had used a few moments prior, “Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs—” he thought for a moment, then continued, “—Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present The Marauder's Map.” The words appeared in swirled cursive in green ink, right at the center of the page, before fading to normal once more.

“Right, time to try it out, I guess. See if the lock worked?” Sirius tapped the parchment. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” The boys sat in amazement as their creation unfolded itself again, beginning with Peter’s introduction, then unveiling the map of the castle.

“Mischief managed,” James spoke, after they’d spent more than enough time admiring their work. The paper faded to blank.

They sat in silence. “I can’t believe we actually did it.” Peter said, finally.

“I can!” James exclaimed, nearly exploding with triumph. “Are you kidding? We’re the freaking Marauders! We can do anything. And now with this map, we can do more than anything, we can—”

“What if it insults anyone who tries to open it incorrectly?” Peter interjected.

The Marauders sat there, huddled together on Remus’ bed, trying to come up with their most clever insults to store in the parchment, on the off chance their creation was found in the wrong hands.

Eventually, Remus kicked them all off his bed so he could get some sleep. “If I’m right—”

“Which you usually are,” Sirius noted.

“—then it should take these and run with them, eventually tailoring its insults to the reader based on how we, ourselves would make fun of them.”

“Moony, you’re incredible,” Peter said sleepily.

“You got that right, Wormtail.” James gave them each a final high five, before climbing into bed himself. There would be more than enough time for mischief and magical map misuse in the morning.

***

### June, 1976

Remus and Sirius found themselves sitting together in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express, heading home, still without having confessed their feelings for one another. Remus was curled up, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder, and all he wanted was to reach out and hold Sirius’ hand. But he held back.

All Sirius wanted to do was to reach up and run a hand through Remus’ curls. He was vaguely listening to James and Peter as they recounted the best parts of that year, but most of his attention was focused on Remus and the shoulder that bore his weight. Sirius felt his whole body warm, starting at that very point on his shoulder.

He was excited for the summer, but nervous too. He’d never lived with anyone but his family before. Would it be strange? He knew they’d asked, and James kept insisting that it would absolutely be normal, and reminding Sirius how much his parents loved him when they first met, but he was still worried.

Nearly all that anxiety melted away, however, when Sirius and James hopped off the train and onto the platform, immediately greeted with large hugs all around.

“James! Sirius! How’re my favorite troublemakers after another year?” Mrs. Potter embraced them together, a smile spreading across her face.

Mr. Potter gave Sirius a friendly pat on the back, his kind smile matching his wife’s.

“It was great, Mrs. Potter—”

“Oh, please. Call me Euphemia, you’re family now after all…” Sirius didn’t let it show, but his heart soared. He was family.

Before they left, Sirius turned to Remus, giving him a final hug goodbye. He squeezed tightly, and held on for just a moment longer than he should have, but many moments shorter than he wanted to. Sirius wanted to hold him and never let go, allowing the world to pass them by forever. But he settled for a fleeting hug.

***

### July, 1976

Something Sirius hadn’t considered about leaving home without warning, was one day, he’d have to go collect his stuff. He’d desperately hoped he’d never have to see the place again, let alone be inside for any period of time.

The Potters had offered to replace all his things, but Sirius couldn’t let them do that. They’d already given him so much, allowing him to stay in their house and buying him enough as it was, he wouldn’t let them buy him things he already owned.

He’d chosen the night specifically—there was a meeting his parents never missed, always on the seventh day of each month. Sirius didn’t know what it was, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to know either. Better to let them go about their business, but take advantage of their absence.

He showed up at the front door with bated breath, his chest tightening at the sight of his least favorite place. He knocked once and pulled back. A moment passed. The heavy wooden door swung open to reveal—

“Regulus.” His eyes were wide and dark, disbelieving.

“Sirius?” Regulus asked, tone incredulous.

“Yeah… can I…?”

“Oh, of course.” Regulus stepped aside, letting Sirius pass. He shut the door behind him and immediately was joined by that all too familiar feeling of being trapped.

He didn’t stop walking, as soon as he was inside. He went directly up the stairs, leaving Regulus to run, catching up to him. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t—”

“I’m getting my stuff. Moving out.” Sirius replied curtly. He didn’t want to discuss the matter, he knew Regulus would disagree. A few months had passed since they’d last spoken, and Sirius had missed his brother, dearly. Still, he couldn’t forget the incidents that had caused their misconnection.

“You—you can’t. Sirius—”

“I can, and I am. They’ve always treated us like shit, you know that. If they’re not going to fucking love me then I’ll find a family that will.” He took a deep breath, “Actually, I already have.”

Regulus found himself waiting outside Sirius’ bedroom as his brother frantically shoved anything and everything he could find into the bag he’d brought with him. His breath drew in shakily as the weight of Sirius’ words finally hit him. The tears began to flow, silently.

“Sirius, please.” He tried once more, his voice breaking as he spoke, “Please don’t leave me with them. If you stayed, we could make it better. If you just went along with what they said every once and awhile, maybe—”

“No, Regulus.” Sirius' tone was dark and heavy. He’d been expecting resistance, but hadn’t realized just how difficult it was to refuse. It broke his heart in a million pieces to hear Regulus begging—he knew just what the house would be like in response to his leaving.

Which was exactly why he couldn’t stay.

He finished his packing and turned to see his brother, still standing silently at the door. He stood to give him one final hug. Every word seared in the back of his throat, cutting like broken glass in his lungs, “I love you but there’s no fucking way I’m staying here.” He took in a final deep breath, a moment of peace in a house full of violence.

When they separated, Regulus’ eyes were burning with anger, “Then go. Run away like you always do.”

Sirius looked him in the eye and voiced his sincerest wishes, “I’m not running away. I’m getting out. And I hope someday you can too.”

He didn’t look back once on his way out. The door slammed, a final retaliation from a broken rebel to the family he was never truly a part of.

***


	19. September, November, and December, 1976

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus makes a move.

##  Year 6

###  September, 1976

Remus was endlessly excited to see his friends again. He’d had a fine summer; the usual—painful transformations set between a blur of boring, miserably hot days—but he was ready for the coming year.

And he was ready to finally ask Sirius on a date. Or to be his boyfriend. Or both. He hadn’t really decided yet.

That was, he thought he was ready, until he caught a glimpse of Sirius again.

He hadn’t changed much in the past year, still just as short as last year, wearing relatively the same style, hair pulled back out of his eyes with a few strands framing his face at the front. But there was something about seeing someone he’d thought so much about that made Remus’ insides turn to jelly. All the confidence he’d gathered, all the bold ideas about dates and plans, flew out the window.

Sirius came on the train after what was, hands down, the best summer of his life. Even his short trip to 12 Grimmauld Place couldn’t spoil just how incredible the warm months had been. The Potters had welcomed him graciously, setting up his bedroom then letting him personalize it however he wanted. He filled the walls with posters ripped out of the old magazines Alexander sent him—boys on motorcycles and leather jacket styles and, of course, a full page spread of Queen. A few of his other favorite artists hung around the room, like David Bowie in the weirdest (and coolest) clothes Sirius had ever seen.

His vinyls piled up in crates in the corner and he searched for more every time he visited Alexander at the thrift shop in London. He spent most of his time digging through the second hand records, picking out everything from Led Zeppelin to the Beatles to a couple of disco tracks when Alexander talked him into it—and gushing about Remus.

Alexander had found a partner himself as well, one of the guys from the club. They’d stumbled into each other on the way out from another night that was busted by the cops, and started arguing over who was at fault. And the rest… history.

Michael was so clearly in love with Alexander, it actually made Sirius’ heart twist. He watched the little looks they shared, the way they held hands behind the counter when no one else was in the store—heard the way they talked about each other when they were separated. Sirius wanted that so badly.

In his daydreams, between playing quidditch with James and Mr. Potter and eating family dinner (with no arguments! for the first time in his life), Sirius held Remus in his arms. He kissed his temples and traced patterns on the back of his hands when they were sitting beside each other. They slept in the same bed and Remus draped his arms around Sirius and made his heart feel full—as if it was going to burst with happiness.

So when Sirius saw Remus again, he wrapped him in the tightest hug, feeling his pulse quickening. He could already feel that familiar speechless feeling coming up, the same one that overtook him everytime Remus came near.

He struggled through it, finally pulling back from the embrace, “Good summer, Moony?”

Remus gave him a small smile, “Not bad. I take it you had a pretty fun one—has Prongs managed to get all your tricks for pulling girls yet? Any wild new plans this year?” He turned to James, arching an eyebrow.

“Nope. No plans,” James announced, kicking his feet up onto Peter’s lap. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. Gonna let her come to me this year.”

Remus and Peter stared at him, unblinkingly. “Padfoot, who is this, and what did you do with our dear old Lily-Evans-obsessed James Potter?”

Sirius held his hands up in surrender. “I did nothing, I swear. He came to this wild conclusion all on his own.”

“Awww, he’s starting to think for himself!” Peter teased, earning him a playful shove from James.

***

###  November, 1976

Lily Evans wanted to scream. She was so unbelievably done with Remus and Sirius skating around their feelings as if the two weren’t very obviously in love with each other. The way their hands brushed in the hallways, the loving gazes they shared when they thought no one else could see—a solid part of her just wanted to lock them in a room and yell “Just kiss already!”

Even James “Sirius Black is a ladykiller” Potter was starting to pick up on the fact that their connection was more than friendly. It was actually one of their first genuine points of connection, James and Lily. It began subtly, the pair observing Moony and Padfoot and sneaking glances, laughing at their shared obliviousness. After a few weeks, they started talking, updating each other on moments they’d seen—like the way Sirius kept fixing his hair before he went to the library, or how Remus sat up straighter when he knew Sirius was coming to join them. Lily was surprised to find that he was actually alright to hang out around, now that he wasn’t constantly vying for her love and affection like it was a game to be won.

She didn’t bring up that she knew for a fact that Remus was into Sirius. Did it give her an unfair advantage over James when eventually they started betting on the pair? Maybe. But it didn’t seem fair to out Remus, even if James was already well into speculation. And Lily wasn’t above a little unfair advantage, especially over James Potter, who’d tormented her with obnoxious displays of affection for years. It was the least she could do in return.

James even started coming to her for advice—which was actually a relief because everything he thought was going to be a good idea sounded horrible.

“So, why don’t we just confront them about it? Like, be upfront and say ‘Sirius, we know you’re in love with Remus. Remus is into you too, just go and get him.’ I think that could work!”

Lily resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She sighed, “It’s different for gay relationships, James. Even if there’s mutual affection, there’s still danger—they’re just worried.” James looked confused. “They’ve got the normal things to worry about too, does he like me back and all that—but it was illegal, at least in the muggle world, until 1967.”

James’ eyes widened, “What? Illegal!?” he exclaimed, making far too much noise and drawing more than a few eyes.

McGonagall’s voice rang out from the front of the classroom, “Potter, Evans, if you could hold the discussion of illicit activities until you have successfully transfigured your Puffskeins to paperweights, and left my classroom.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall,” Lily apologized, blushing.

“Yeah, sorry Professor,” James chimed in, then lowered his voice, leaning back in towards Lily, “It was illegal?”

“I mean, yeah. I don’t get it either, really, but it’s not exactly in public favor, even now that it’s been decriminalized.”

James sighed, “In English, please.”

“What it means, is that some people really don’t like the idea of two guys dating, and they’re willing to do bad things about it.”

“Well that’s dumb. What’s Moony and Padfoot’s love gotta do with anybody else?”

“I don’t know James, why don’t you ask a homophobe?”

“I will, next time I meet one,” James replied, completely seriously.

Lily held back a giggle. Yeah, James Potter wasn’t all that bad anymore.

***

###  December, 1976

Sirius was going home with James for the holidays. Which meant Remus would be going home for the holidays, a fact that he was not very excited about.

More importantly, Sirius was going home for the holidays and Remus was beginning to think that if he didn’t tell Sirius about his feelings soon, he would never ever do it.

So, when the Hogwarts Express pulled back into the platform, Remus took his chance. The other passengers were unloading, James and Peter amongst them. Remus feigned trouble with his luggage, “Hey Sirius,” his heart was thudding in his ears, “Could you give me a hand?”

Sirius waved off his friends, “I’ll meet you out there in a minute, you guys go ahead.”

He pulled down the trunk easily while Remus looked around anxiously, double checking that they were the only two left on the train. Sirius held out Remus’ luggage between them, but he didn’t take it just yet. After a moment of stillness, he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry if this messes with stuff, but I just gotta try.” He took a step forward, moving his trunk aside and closing the space between them. His hand closed over Sirius’, and his breathing hitched. Butterflies fluttered like crazy in his stomach.

Sirius gave him a puzzled look but didn’t step back.

_ Too late to turn back now. _

“Could I kiss you?” Remus whispered, voice so soft it was barely audible.

Sirius didn’t think. He didn’t know if he could think. Remus was so close, a hair's breadth away and he’d just asked—

Sirius nodded, tilting his chin up, voice coming out as a hoarse murmur, “Please.”

And their lips connected.

Sirius lay a hand on the curve of Remus’ lower back, the other pressing gently, pulling the boy closer to him and closing the gap between their bodies. The kiss was sweet and soft and Sirius couldn’t help but smile into it.

Until he pulled back and saw Remus’ expression.

The curly haired boy was flushed and as still as a statue. His eyes held an emotion that Sirius couldn’t read. _Confusion? Terror? Regret?_ Remus grabbed his trunk and ran out of the compartment, leaving Sirius Black frozen with emotional whiplash.

***

Sirius spent the rest of the holiday replaying those fleeting moments in his head, over and over again. Remus stepping in, asking, kissing—and running away.

Had he done something wrong? He didn’t really know what else he could have done, but Sirius had never done anything like that before, so he certainly wasn’t the expert.

He couldn’t ask James, or write to Peter. They knew Remus, and Sirius didn’t want to embarrass him if he just wanted to leave it alone, forget about it. And Sirius would have to explain to his friends that he probably liked guys and that seemed like a long and strange conversation that he really didn’t want to have—at least not yet.

So he sent a letter to Alexander. Probably the most frantic letter he’d ever sent. He’d drafted it in his head on the car ride to the Potters’, and ran upstairs almost immediately, rushing through his greetings to Mrs. Potter. He felt bad about that, but his mind was somewhere else at the time. He made extra effort to be kind to her after he’d sent the letter.

Alexander’s reply came a few days later. Sirius ripped open the envelope with reckless abandon, reading it in its entirety three times over. It seemed like a good plan. He thanked whatever power controlled the universe that his friends were endlessly smarter than him.

***

Remus was in his own world for most of his time at home. His parents didn’t really mind. They went about their business as usual, thankful that his transformation had been much earlier in the month. They asked him about school and didn’t press when he gave them short answers.

He had kissed his best friend. He had kissed Sirius Black.

So long had the yearning been bottled up, as soon as their lips had connected Remus had felt sparks in his stomach ignite, fiercely burning through what few barriers he had left. The openness, the pure vulnerability, handing his heart to Sirius, terrified him.

But Sirius Black had kissed him back. He thought. Right?

By the time Remus was done second guessing himself, the story had twisted and morphed grotesquely in his mind. Remus had asked Sirius, and forced himself onto his lips before the other boy could politely decline, obviously not wanting anything romantic to do with the scarred boy he hung around with. Sirius’ hands on his back had not been a gentle, loving embrace, but instead a desperate and frantic clawing at him to back off.

Remus sat up at night, staring at the moon.

He didn’t know it then, but Sirius was watching it too.

***


	20. January, 1977

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius responds. January 22nd, 1977 marks an important date.

###  January, 1977

The first time the pair met eyes was on the train, heading back to Hogwarts after the holidays. Remus was sporting the sweatshirt Sirius had gotten him for his birthday the year prior. He leaned against the windowed wall, long legs pulled up onto the seat. His hands fiddled with the embroidered sleeve awkwardly, and he broke their eye contact almost immediately. Sirius sat beside him, Remus’ legs creating a bit of space that was honestly unusual between the two of them. A voice in Sirius’ mind suggested he lie down, leaning against Remus’ legs, but Sirius held back. If Remus wanted space, he’d give him space, just as Alexander had suggested.

_ Give him space. Try to broach the topic gently after a while. _

It wasn’t until they got to school that Sirius began to wonder just how much space Remus needed. Remus barely looked at him the entire night, heading to bed quickly and shutting the curtains that opened to Sirius’ side. The gentle  _ whoosh _ of the fabric tore Sirius’ insides to shreds.  _ The last time he had done that… _

Sirius tried not to think about it too much.  _ The Incident. _

This wasn’t that bad, was it?  _ Was it? _

He jogged to catch up with Remus as they walked to Transfiguration. “Hey,” he began, desperately trying to keep his cool and pretend everything was normal.

“Hey.” Remus’ voice sounded strained.

Sirius looked him up and down. Lowering his voice he noted, “You’re walking with a limp—is everything okay?” The question had many layers.

_ Is your leg okay? Are we okay? Did I do something wrong? Do you hate me? Please tell me you don’t hate me, I don’t know if I could live with that. _

“I’m fine,” Remus grumbled through gritted teeth. “Bad knee, nothing new.”

“Okay, d’you wanna slow down though? Don’t want to make anything worse—”

But they had arrived at the entrance of the classroom and Remus scurried off to sit between James and Peter, leaving Sirius to sit on the other side of James. He didn’t listen to a single word that was said. Throughout the entire class Sirius tried to catch Remus’ eye, to ask what was wrong, to ask if Remus hated him, to ask what he did.  _ Please. _

Remus kept his head down, a few loose curls brushing the top of his paper as he wrote, taking more notes than he’d ever need. He had practically every word McGonagall had uttered down on the page.

He didn’t know if he could stand to look Sirius in the eye. He didn’t want to see the contempt, the awkwardness, the discomfort that they surely must have held. Even less did he want to talk about what had happened. He didn’t want to discuss how Remus’ being queer was putting a damper on their friendship, he didn’t want to listen while Sirius very gently let him down, as he was bound to do. Better to move past and ignore it all, pretend it had never happened.

Sirius felt lost in his own head. He spent nights awake, staring at the closed curtains and wondering, wondering, wondering.

_Was it possible Remus regretted their kiss?_ _Were things ever going to be normal again? Was this all that he got, a taste of what could never be?_

He imagined the way Remus would slowly stop speaking to him altogether. The way their eyes would stop meeting, their only interactions based on chance and misfortune. The way Sirius would spend the rest of his life wondering, wondering, wondering.

It was only after an entire week that Sirius began to grow desperate. He was tired of trying to catch his attention during lessons and running to meet him in the corridors only for the result to be awkwardly forced conversation. Alexander's advice had been a bust. So Sirius devised a plan of his own.

Remus was walking with Lily on January 22, 1977, after a particularly difficult Arithmancy class, when Sirius appeared, a little winded, hair flowing as he ran over. “Hey Evans,” he gave her a quick wave, “Mind if I steal Moony from you?”

Remus gave her a pleading look, but she willingly ignored it, “Go ahead, I need to finish my charms essay anyway.” And with a gentle tug on the arm, Remus was jogging down the corridors towards an all-too-familiar wall.

Remus didn’t protest this time as the door to the Room of Requirement swung open. Inside appeared a room—modest, if a bit cramped. It resembled an entrance hall, but there were no other doors besides the one they had just entered. Sirius pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it from the inside.

He turned around sheepishly, “Sorry, just figured we didn’t wanna be—” he shook his head and met Remus’ eyes intently. “Look, I just need to know if you regret it.”

“If I—what?” Remus stuttered. They were so close together.

“You know what I’m talking about. The kiss. Do you regret it?” Sirius’ tone was desperate, silently begging Remus not to say yes.  _ Please.  _ He worried his bottom lip between his teeth when Remus hesitated to answer.

Remus remembered the way those lips had left him so defenseless. “Do you?”

“No, I don’t. Not in the slightest.” Sirius answered immediately. “But say you do and I’ll never mention it again. We can go on as best mates, pretending it didn’t happen.”  _ Please don’t pick that option. _ He took in a breath, “But I have to know. So do you?”

Remus stared into the grey oceans in front of him. He felt as if the air in his lungs had been stolen indefinitely. What choice did he have but to be candid? “I don’t.”

Sirius let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  _ Relief.  _ “So, can I kiss you then?”

It was Remus’ turn to nod.  _ Yes. _

So Sirius stepped forward, lifting his chin and closing the gap between them. Once more, they kissed. It felt more like fireworks this time, the deep flicker of twin flames low in their stomachs. Remus kept his hands steady on Sirius’ face, holding on for dear life, cradling his jawbone and the faint stubble that had grown there, unable to fully believe or comprehend what was happening. Sirius was much bolder, winding his hands up the nape of Remus’ neck and tangling his fingers in the messy, beautiful curls, tugging slightly. With that, Remus came to life, kissing him harder—pressing their lips together desperately, as if all the world was ending. If it was, Sirius would gladly die, kissing the boy of his dreams, locked away from the rest of the world.

An involuntary whimper escaped from Sirius’ lips as Remus dropped his hands to his waist, holding firmly, fingers digging into the soft skin. Sirius pressed his hips forward carefully, inviting challenge, but Remus didn’t reciprocate. He wanted to. _Merlin_ , he wanted to, more than he probably knew it was possible to want to do something—but he didn’t think he could take another shock to the system before he short circuited.

Even the idea made his brain melt; Sirius Black wanted him.

He wanted to talk first. To have a first  _ real _ kiss, tell Sirius how he felt, and then go on.

After what felt like blissful eternity, their lips separated. Remus pressed his forehead to Sirius’, keeping their bodies close. “Please,” Sirius spoke quietly, but with power behind the words, “Never do that again. I thought I was going to go mad, sitting there wondering if you were done with me.”

Remus chuckled at that, and the sound surrounded them, echoing in the tiny room. He couldn't stop smiling. “Me? How could I ever be done with you?”

Sirius lowered his head, “There was that one time… When I fucked up so much I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me. And the worst part was, I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist, embracing him lightly, “And then you went and did the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Yeah, sure, you fucked up. A lot—”

“Gee, thanks,” Sirius deadpanned, causing Remus to laugh again.

“But you went out and you  _ changed _ . You were a kid, I can’t hold that against you.”

Sirius sighed, “I just didn’t know if this was gonna be like that.” Heat rose into his cheeks. “Because well, you’re—well,  _ you.  _ You’ve got good grades and you’re a prefect and you’re so fucking handsome and you actually have your life together a bit and why on Earth would you want to kiss  _ me _ . I’m… kinda a mess. My parents kicked me out when they found out I was gay and my brother’s been brainwashed to be homophobic and I get in trouble all the time and—” the words fumbled out of his mouth faster than he could stop them.

“Sirius,” Remus cut off his ramble, squeezing him closer. “I’m really no great shakes either. I’m anxious and covered in stupid scars—that I got, if you don’t remember, because I’m a bloody werewolf, a creature my dad called ‘soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death’ and—”

Sirius took a step back, stormy eyes full of concern. “He said that to you?”

Remus laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact. He’d never told anyone about that. “Not to me specifically, it’s uh—how I got this way actually. Fenrir Greyback heard what my dad said and wanted revenge, I guess. Happened when I was four, so I don’t really remember much.” It was a bit of a lie, but Remus didn’t want to divulge everything—the nightmares, the fear of the dark, the anxiety—just yet. “I used to pity the poor werewolf, thinking he didn’t know what he was doing but…” he trailed off, unsure if he wanted to finish. “Greyback plans his attacks. Puts himself near the people he wants to hurt. My dad was actually the one who saved me from, you know… dying. Bit ironic the way I turned out.”

Sirius wrapped Remus in a hug. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” He dug his head into Remus’ shoulder and squeezed tighter. “There is no world in which what he said is true. You are wonderful, and brilliant, and brave, and so full of life, and bloody beautiful—”

Remus cut him off with another kiss. “Thank you,” he whispered into it. And he meant it.

***

Remus thought he was going to faint. Or that he was dreaming. Or he was going to faint in his dream and wake up all alone. Because he was going to go on a date with Sirius Black.

He threw on the maroon sweatshirt Sirius had gifted him, layering a collared shirt underneath for some added warmth. He gazed at the messy writing:  _ as you wish _ .

Sirius was already ready, but ran his hands through his hair absentmindedly as he waited. He stared at Remus as he got ready. How was someone so beautiful? It didn’t seem possible, the curls, the freckles, the adorable outfit, the way he bounced on the balls of his feet in his trainers anxiously before turning around.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

They hadn’t told their friends it was a date. James had wanted to go to Zonko's Joke Shop anyway, and Peter was more than happy to tag along. They’d both mentioned separately that they weren’t interested, and that they’d be in the Three Broomsticks.

It wasn’t the smartest plan. They’d left themselves an unspecified amount of time—however long the awe-inspiring contraptions of the joke shop held James’ attention—before the other boys came and joined.

But some time was better than none at all.

Remus slipped a hand in the pocket of Sirius’ long coat. The other boy’s hand was warm and grasped his easily, though his heart was pounding.

Sirius hadn’t really thought about the number of people in Hogsmeade. There were so many heads that turned in their direction—the rumors about his being gay never having fully settled—that made him wanted to pull his hand away, even though no one could see their hands between the dark folds in the fabric.

The pair walked into the pub, Remus detangling their fingers to push open the door. Sirius’ anxiety dropped a bit, though his heart sank with it, longing for connection once more.

The first few minutes consisted of awkward small talk, which proved interestingly enlightening. There were a strange number of things that seemed like basic knowledge that had somehow never come up between the pair as friends.

“I like green,” Sirius confessed, staring right into the eyes that made him fall in love with the color.

Remus smiled, surprised. “I never would have guessed,” and it was true. “I honestly couldn’t choose one, but I like purple and blue I think. And—” he began before he could stop himself, “Silver.” He looked away from the necklaces that hung gently around Sirius’ neck.

Sirius bit back a smirk. “You can admit you like me, you know, now that we’re on a date and all.” The end of his sentence was a bit hushed, but no one was listening.

Remus blushed and fidgeted with his fingers under the table, “Sorry. Force of habit is all.” He gave a small smile which Sirius returned.

“So…?” Sirius looked at him expectantly.

Remus furrowed his brow, “So?”

“I’m waiting…” when Remus still didn’t respond, he clarified, “for you to admit you like me.”

“Oh,” the red in Remus’s blush deepened. “You first then.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and peered around to see if there were any onlookers to their exchange, “Remus Lupin, I really really really like you. Not just like you. I fancy you.” He sat back, crossing his legs and leaning against the booth behind him. “Did that seem so hard?”

Remus kept fiddling with his hands but responded quickly, “I fancy you too. A lot.”

The smile they shared made the rest of the world melt away.

***


	21. March and April, 1977

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Lily's bet gets settled. Remus and Sirius share painful memories under the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: some sexual themes/content in this one, also discussion of absuive families

###  March, 1977

The next few months were filled with hidden kisses and subtle hand holding. Their pinkies intertwined at breakfast and Remus often found himself leaning against Sirius while sitting by the fire in the common room. They shared smiles at quidditch matches and cuddled in Remus’ bed when the other boys were out of the dormitory.

There were more than just kisses, of course. There were times when Sirius would pull Remus into the Room of Requirement (which was quickly becoming their favorite spot—well equipped and unfindable, as long as they tuned their requests right) after lessons, teasing him with short kisses. He would make an act of it—pretending to be all smug and forward, his fingers wrapping around the belt loops on Remus’ jeans, tugging the other boy closer, dominating the kisses. It delighted Remus to know just how easily he could undo that facade, watching as Sirius promptly melted whenever Remus ran a hand through his hair, pulling him close and playfully drawing him into another kiss.

The first time that extended further than kissing was awkward, as almost all firsts are. Neither had much experience, though both were incredibly eager to please.

It hadn’t been planned.

Remus had been thinking about it—well, trying and failing  _ not _ to think about it—since before their first kiss, but the extent to which he thought about it increased by a millionfold after that day. He’d practically created a whole list of all the things he wanted to do… when they got to that point.

The list in question, of course, flew far from his mind the second Sirius’ lips connected with his. He was able to remember one, maybe two items on the list, and then Sirius’ hands were on his hips, pulling them closer than they’d been before, and then he was sitting on Sirius’ lap, Sirius’ hands slid down onto his ass, and Remus’ mind went blank, dizzy with arousal. He didn’t really know what to do, but he figured grinding his hips down, just a bit, couldn’t hurt.

Based on Sirius’ reaction—a hitch in the breath, a fairly unflattering groan, his head tilting up to expose his neck, and a returned roll of the hips—it was much better than just ‘couldn’t hurt.’ Remus decided to let his instincts lead him forward from then on, pushing Sirius down onto the mattress with firm hands and moving his lips down to Sirius’ neck, procuring more than a few sharp inhales, which just drove Remus to kiss down, down, down… 

He found Sirius’ collarbone, pecking kisses and sucking sweetly until Sirius managed to sputter out, “Rem—” between heavy breaths, “please.” With one more soft kiss, eliciting a low hiss to escape from Sirius’ lips, Remus felt himself falling deep in lust, his hips starting to move without his permission.

Remus’ heart pounded but he wanted it badly, so he lifted his lips for a moment from the curve where Sirius’ neck became his shoulder, just to find the first button on Sirius’ shirt. His fingers stumbled and slid, shaking slightly with a mix of excitement and nerves. Sirius sat up on his elbows, just for a moment, and put a hand over Remus’. He took over, easily slipping the buttons out and discarding the shirt in the corner.

Remus could feel the excitement stir low in his stomach as he raked in the sight: Sirius Black, sitting shirtless beneath him—hair a mess, lips pink and sitting slightly parted, a few shallow breaths escaping, waiting expectantly to be kissed again. He couldn’t help but focus for a moment on the abs that were so unlike his own soft stomach. Then, driving that thought from his mind, Remus dove down once more, kissing lower, lower, lower, making a line from Sirius’ lips to the waistline of his pants. He glanced up, giving Sirius a sly grin while his hands explored and the other boy’s head hit the mattress, unable to hold himself up any longer. Sirius grasped the sheets, bunching them up in his fists as Remus toyed with him.

He fiddled with the zipper for a moment but eventually got it, hooking two fingers onto the edge of Sirius’ jeans. He paused, making his way back up to Sirius’ eye level.

“Is this… okay?” he asked, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks.

Sirius laughed, “Yes. You can—uh, only if you want to, of course,” he added hastily. “It’s okay if you aren’t ready—”

“No!” Remus said, a bit too strongly to be natural. He cleared his throat, “I mean, no. I want to. Like, a lot. It’s just… I’ve never—”

“Me neither.”

Remus was surprised by this, “Oh. Really?”

Sirius shook his head, shaggy hair falling into those beautiful grey eyes. “Yeah. Really. Now, if we could…” he gestured very plainly, hands twirling downward.

“Right.”

“Right.”

Remus laughed, lowering himself once more, and opened his soft lips. If Sirius’ reaction meant anything, he wasn’t doing too bad of a job. Sirius’ hands found themselves in Remus’ curls and tugged gently, guiding him along. Every moan, every involuntary roll of Sirius’ hips, the way Remus’ name sounded, a pleading invitation for more, more,  _ more _ , in between sharp gasps, turned Remus on even more. He coaxed out little whimpers when his hands settled on the trembling muscles of Sirius’ thighs, every inch of his body shuddering with pleasure. He didn’t know if he could take it, but wanted to live in this moment forever, savoring every ragged breath that escaped Sirius’ lips and the way his back arched so beautifully, or so he thought, until—

“Shit, Rem—”

Sirius pushed him off just in time and Remus fell hard onto the floor, the wind knocked out of him, landing with an awkward  _ thump _ .

“I’d appreciate some advanced warning next time, please.”

Sirius covered his face with an arm, screwing up his eyes, cheeks burning red, “Sorry.” He sat up, panting, and offered Remus a hand, pulling him off the floor. “Let me make it up to you,” he said in a sultry tone, hands reaching under Remus’ sweater to take it off.

“Wait.”

Sirius stopped immediately. “Is everything okay?” Remus felt guilty hearing the concern in his tone.

“Yeah… but can I keep it on? I know it’s weird, I just—”

“Yeah, of course,” Sirius said hurriedly. He instead reached down to the top of Remus' trousers. “These okay to come off?” There was a slight smirk on his face but his tone was genuine.

Remus nodded, and Sirius got to work, kissing and touching and exploring and… 

***

It was one of the couple’s tamer moments (to the relief of everyone involved), with Remus lazily laying on top of a sleepy Sirius, pressing gentle kisses to his boyfriend’s lips (they’d  _ finally _ sat down and had the ‘what are we’ talk), when James barged in.

They’d forgotten to lock the door.

Remus rolled off the bed in a panic, falling to the floor but jumping to his feet quickly. James’ eyes bounced back and forth from Sirius to Remus, frozen at the door.

“James, I—”

“YES!” James roared, tearing down the stairs. “Lily! LILY I WAS RIGHT—”

Sirius and Remus tore after him, sharing a confused and panicked look. They found James standing next to Lily, who was sitting at one of the tables in the common room, digging through her bag. James was doing arguably the most embarrassing victory dances the Gryffindor common room had ever witnessed.

“I  _ told _ you—”

“Hang on,” Sirius cut him off. “What’s going on here? James, we can explain—”

But then Lily placed three, shiny galleons in James’ open palm. He gave her an exasperated face, “What? We clearly agreed on five if it was before my birthday—”

Remus cut in, not exactly enraged, more flustered, “You were  _ betting _ on us?”

Lily shook her head, ashamedly, “Yeah… we were talking and it sorta just happened—”

“And  _ I _ won!” James interrupted, “‘Cause I know my best mates better than Lily does, hell yeah!” He held out his hand again and Lily slipped two more golden coins in. “No, I was asking for a high five—though I will be keeping those galleons—”

Lily rolled her eyes but gave James a high five anyway.

“Hold on,” Sirius started again, “I’m still not over this. You two were talking? And James didn’t jinx you, Lily? No love potion slipped into your pumpkin juice?”

She laughed at that, “I can assure you, it was completely of my own will, Sirius. Though, why, I still couldn’t tell you—”

“Hey!”

“But this isn’t about me and James, it’s about you and Remus! Tell me,” she plopped her chin into her hand interestedly, “who asked first? Ooh! How was your first kiss?”

“Lily!” Remus blushed, “Can we talk about this somewhere a bit more… private?”

The others seemed to realize that they were all making quite a commotion in the middle of the common room. Luckily, Gryffindors were fairly used to commotions, especially from James Potter and his friends. Even still, the four of them snuck downstairs to the boys dormitory.

Following Lily’s initial shock at just how messy the room was (“Do you four even clean?  _ Ever _ ?”), she sat down on Remus’ bed, as it was the tidiest—only by a little—and began the interrogation.

“So, tell me everything Remus! Did you finally get the courage to ask him out? Or did he come to you?”

Remus started, “Well, I hadn’t actually told him that I told you so—”

“You knew, for sure?” James interjected. “That’s not fair, I was just speculating and—”

“And you still won the bet, Potter. Let it go.” Lily’s tone was cool but firm.

“Backup,” Sirius sat down beside Lily, “he talked to you about me? Oh my god tell me everything—”

Remus dove in, separating the two before Lily could speak, “ _ Not everything, _ ” but Sirius already knew enough.

“So did he not tell you about the kiss? How long before that did he like me? A few months?” Remus wanted to jump out the window.

“A few months?” Lily laughed, “He’s barely shut up about you since third year—” Remus dug his head into the pillow and groaned, face feeling like fire. “Don’t get me started on when you came back, all leather jacket and skinny jeans and man bun—”

“Okay! Enough.” Remus cut her off. “Can ‘embarrass Remus in front of his boyfriend’ time be over now?”

“Boyfriend?” Peter’s voice came from the door. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”

James looked over, “Oh, hey Wormtail! And, yeah. Remus and Sirius are dating.”

Peter dropped his hands, exasperated. “How am I  _ always _ last to know these things?”

***

###  April, 1977

Sirius awoke with a start in his bed while the moon was still high. His heart was still pounding in his chest, slowly chasing away the nightmare. When his breathing had regulated, he heard the familiar sounds of tossing and turning to his right. A hiccup.

_ Remus _ .

Sirius hurried out of his four poster and stumbled over to him, nearly tripping on a stack of books that sat between their beds. His hands found their way to Remus' shoulders, where he was thrashing and twitching. With the pressure, Remus woke up.

He blinked a few times, settling firmly back in reality. “Sirius,” he breathed.

His boyfriend was standing over his bed, hair falling loosely in front of his face. His timid smile was full of poorly hid concern. “Nightmare?”

Remus nodded. His face was still wet from tears. “Could you…?” He lifted the covers and Sirius slid underneath, wrapping warm arms around him.

Their faces were inches apart and Remus felt himself relax, settling into the familiar curve of Sirius’ body. The covers were a mess, twisted about, but neither boy made to fix them. It was finally starting to get warm enough that Remus didn’t have to cling to his comforter in order to survive the night without freezing. He had always run a bit cold.

Sirius’ legs wrapped around Remus’ and he pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Do you want to talk about it?” he began gently. They had never discussed the terrors that plagued them both at night. It was a shared reality—starting with the window ledge but unfortunately not ending there—but it was difficult for both to imagine opening up about their deepest fears.

But Remus felt safe, warm and secure in his boyfriend’s arms. “I can still remember the night I was… the night he—Greyback…” his voice petered out. Sirius’ eyes widened slightly. His grip tightened—just barely but it was there.

“Oh… wow—”

Words stumbled out of Remus’ mouth. “I’m gonna tell you about it ‘cause if I don’t now I don’t think I ever will—if that’s okay?”

Sirius swallowed but nodded.

Rusting came from across the room and Remus grabbed his wand. He whispered, muttering a muffling charm, and the movement died down.

“It was dark. Really dark. Darker than it’s actually ever been since—werewolves can see in the dark I guess—”

“You  _ can _ ?” Sirius interjected, and then, “Sorry, continue.”

Remus chuckled halfheartedly, and hiccuped. “Yeah, we can. But—back then, I couldn’t. So… it was dark.” He was glad Sirius couldn’t see in the dark because his cheeks were burning. “There’s a floorboard that always creaked in my old house—we moved after I… so I heard the floorboard creak and… I thought it was my dad. But he was standing in the doorway, sort of surveying the scene I guess, and then he pounced.”

Sirius flinched but didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned in closer, held him tighter. “Where?” he asked in a hushed tone, almost too low to hear.

Remus grabbed a hand and pulled it under his nightshirt, up to where the first scar lay. He didn’t need to look; the spot was burned into his memory from years of staring at it in the mirror. The raised bumps, three in a smooth line, dragged across from his right ribs up to his chest. The imprint of teeth, permanently etched into a young boy. They were the most gruesome of all the marks on his body. The wolf was bored, hungry, itching to hunt, but it would never hurt itself enough to do serious damage—just cuts and scrapes and claw marks, and the occasional gnawing on a paw. Greyback… he was there with a vengeance. He came with the intent to damage, to ruin, to—

“I’m so sorry Rem.” Sirius' soft spoken words snapped him back to reality. He wiped away the stray tears Remus hadn’t even felt were there.

“I can still feel it. In the dreams.” Remus clung tighter to Sirius, until their bodies were pressed flush against each other. He needed the support, the warmth, the closeness to remind him that it was real. He was there, in his dormitory bed, not back in that old house where the darkness overtook all of his senses, and the agony—“I know he only got me there, my dad checked everywhere, twice, just to be sure, but,” he inhaled slowly, breathing in Sirius’ familiar scent and closing his eyes, “it hurt all over. I can’t explain it—it was like my body was on fire, and I was screaming but I didn’t even know it, and I thought…”

“You thought you’d rather die than go on living like that for another second.” Sirius finished, horror spreading across his face. His eyes were wide with curiosity and confusion—and a fear that he knew exactly what Remus was explaining—staring into the shadows that made up Remus’ face. “Is it possible… Greyback had a wand on him? Or maybe someone else was there?”

“I don’t think so…” Remus tried to think back, “Nobody else was found and I don’t even think werewolves can do magic during the full moon, but who knows?” He blinked. “Why? And how’d you know that?” It was as if Sirius had pulled the thoughts straight from his head.

“I…” Sirius didn’t know how to admit what he was about to say, but he owed it to Remus to be honest. Remus had shared one of the most vulnerable parts of himself to Sirius, and Sirius didn’t want to hold back either. “It sounds like the Cruciatus Curse.” He knew the other boys in the room couldn’t hear him, but he still whispered. It didn’t feel like a topic that could be discussed in normal speaking tones.

For a moment, Remus was silent. He had connected the dots and, “Oh Sirius.” Sirius tried to hold back the rush of memories that came along with those words. The terrible, twisted way his mother’s voice had cried  _ Crucio _ and the pure agony that had followed. Falling on the floor, body contorting against his control, just trying to shake off the pain. Feeling as if he would rather die than live in that moment…

The story tumbled out in between sobs, with Remus clinging to him, so close even death itself couldn’t have separated them.

Sirius didn’t go back to his bed that night.

The pair watched the sun rise, drying their tears and relishing in the moment they spent together. When Remus was in Sirius’ arms, it felt as though everything would be okay.

***

It wasn’t until nearly a month later when Remus first allowed Sirius to take off his sweater while they were in the midst of passion.

They’d been kissing on the bed when the verbal confirmation had left his lips, and Sirius paused completely. “Are you sure? You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.” Then he chuckled, holding back a smirk, “We’ve certainly been able to make it work with it on—”

Remus shoved him lightly to cut him off. “Yeah, I’m sure. Just—don’t stare. Please.” He shed the sweater and allowed Sirius to gaze upon the scars that covered nearly every inch of his stomach—most of which had never seen the light of day.

“Rem—” the breath left Sirius’ lungs. He’d seen Remus’s arms and legs. Gotten used to the long, jagged scars across his face, the painful and permanent reminders of his affliction. He’d even felt the teeth marks that curved over his chest. Somehow, the whole picture still managed to take his breath away. Inch long scars and those that stretched much farther, crossing over one another in a raised and discolored roadmap. “You’re beautiful.”

Sirius reached out a finger to trace over one of the central scars. He lay a soft kiss on each end as he reached it. And then he found another. And another. And another. They reached lower and lower and lower. Remus felt the air catch in his throat. Sirius’ necklaces dangled and lay cold against the bare skin of his stomach. With the anxiety gone from showing Sirius his biggest insecurity, Remus let himself get lost in the kisses as the fire was lighting up in his chest. It burned lower and lower and lower… 

***


	22. May, June, July, and August, 1977

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily discovers something she shares with one James Potter. Sirius delivers important news to his family, and promises his friends the best night of their lives.

###  May, 1977

The Marauders were in charms when Professor Flitwick walked in, standing on the books behind his desk and clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Alright class, in preparation for your N.E.W.T.s, I’ll be testing you on one of the most difficult skills you may have to perform: The Patronus Charm.”

A unanimous groan came from the students as they begrudgingly took out their wands. They’d been hoping for cheering charms, or something else relatively simple.

“I expect you’ve all been practicing on your own time as I suggested… Mr. Black, why don’t you start us off and we’ll go in alphabetical order. Line up please!”

The students shuffled into a line down the center of the classroom, Sirius standing at the head. He took his wand out of his back pocket and smiled.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Black.”

He wasn’t nervous; he’d practiced this one with Remus quite a few times in the library. Sirius concentrated with all his might on the happiest memory he could think of. He was sitting in the Gryffindor common room on his birthday and had just found out he would be living with the Potters. His heart filled with the pure energy and excitement of that moment—the prospect of moving out of 12 Grimmauld Place, never having to see his mother and father again, living with a happy family and loving parents, and having his best mate as a brother. “Expecto Patronum!” he cast.

A silvery black dog bounded out of his wand and ran around the room, circling the line of students excitedly.

“Excellent, Mr. Black!” Flitwick remarked. “Next!”

The line moved slowly as students presented their patronuses. Some were more successful than others, quite a few only able to produce a hazy smoke.

“Ah, Ms. Evans, whenever you’re ready.” Professor Flitwick smiled.

Lily spoke clearly, “Expecto Patroum!”

James’ eyes were as big as saucers. A beautiful, shiny doe sprang from her wand and galloped around her gently. It looked nearly identical to his, except without the antlers. James frantically turned to Remus and Peter, who were standing next to him in line, “Does this mean…” he whispered, unsure of how to finish. Remus just shrugged, as he certainly didn’t have the answer. Before he could figure out what to do, Professor Flitwick called out.

“Next!”

It was a few turns later when Remus was at the front of the line. He concentrated on two things. The first, of course, was his happiest memory. His first ride on the Hogwart Express. Age eleven, meeting friends for the first time who didn’t care about his scars, who didn’t know about his condition. Friends who welcomed him easily and loved him unconditionally.

The second was to not produce a corporeal patronus. He’d already seen it, luckily in the private confinement of a private study room—a large wolf which stalked around him and bared its fangs. And he hated it.

“Expecto Patronum,” he said clearly, and a strong, powerful, but non-corporeal patronus appeared. It would have been more than enough to satisfy Professor Flitwick if he was any other student, but Remus Lupin was not often one for only partially mastering spells. Nevertheless, Flitwick sent him on his way to the back of the line with nothing more than a concerned look.

“Mr. Pettigrew, it appears you’re next.”

Peter inched forward slowly. He knew he couldn’t make a patronus, and after a few agonizing minutes of trying, the fact became clear to Flitwick as well. “Very well, Mr. Pettigrew, you may move along, though I suggest you practice a bit more before the N.E.W.T.”

Peter flushed and walked to the back of the classroom, head slung low in shame.

Then it was James’ turn. He scratched his neck awkwardly and coughed, “Uh, Professor Flitwick, is there any way I could do mine after class?”

“What’s wrong, Potter? Got a little performance anxiety?” Sirius jeered from the back, completely unaware of the internal turmoil James was in. A few students laughed.

Flitwick, on the other hand, seemed confused, but didn’t see the purpose in arguing, “Yes, alright then. You can hurry along to the back and meet me after class.”

The rest of the class went, conjuring stallions and kittens and even a swan, before turning around and standing at the back of the class. When the last of the students had gone, Professor Flitwick dismissed them, “And Mr. Potter, don’t forget to see me before you leave.”

Lily collected her stuff hurriedly, but when she left the classroom she didn’t go to the common room. She told Remus, “You go, I’ll be there in a minute.” Lily waited at the Charms classroom door, peering curiously through the thin opening.

James stood in front of Flitwick. She couldn't hear what they were saying but watched as he waved his wand and recited the incantation and—

_ A stag. _

Lily tore her eye away from the door, frozen in her tracks. Her mind reeled. She didn’t know what it meant but it probably—

“Whoa!” James nearly hit her with the door on his way out. He smiled with that insufferably charismatic lopsided grin, “Been spying on me?”

Lily felt breathless. “Uh, yeah.” Blushing, she composed herself. “I mean—Why didn’t you just do that in front of the class if you could do it just fine? I thought you’d asked to go after ‘cause you couldn’t do it or something.”

“Oh, and you stuck around to watch me fail. How kind.” He shrugged, “I dunno, I thought it might be embarrassing for you if people saw we had matching patronuses… Better safe than sorry, ya know?”

“Better safe than sorry? Since when is that your motto, Mr. James ‘danger is my middle name’ Potter?” But she gave him a smile. “But thank you. Really.”

***

###  June, 1977

Sirius couldn’t stop shaking. Either his leg was bouncing repetitively, or his hand was twitching, or both. Remus tried to help, squeezing their hands tighter, but Sirius just began tapping patterns on the back of the other boy’s hand. He absent mindedly traced scars that he found—lightning bolts traveling up Remus’ arms—desperate to think of anything other than what he was planning on doing.

Because Sirius was going to come out to the Potters.

It felt right—they’d welcomed him into their home, let him join their traditions, treated him like a son in a way his own mother and father had never done. And Sirius wanted to.

But he was also terrified.

No matter how well James had taken it, no matter how much he insisted his parents wouldn’t care at all and would be proud of him, Sirius was terrified.

Putting himself out in the world was a big step. Dancing in those underground London bars, trying eyeliner and dresses and braided hair in dark basements with a bunch of other people who were only living for the night, was different. That was safe, at least in the way any recently-legalized activity can be safe. In the way that privacy and experimentation can be safe.

But Sirius wanted to be out in the world. He wanted to live with Remus in the sun,  _ and _ love by the moon. He wanted it all. He wanted to hold hands in the street like the straight couples that danced to no music on the sidewalk outside Alexander’s vintage store. He wanted to lie on the grass and lazily throw away kisses as if they were meaningless. And he wanted to introduce Remus to his friends in London, show him the way that the night can come alive with the energy of people who didn’t care who they were in the slightest.

The train ride and subsequent car ride were miserable. Sirius said goodbye to Remus, feeling his heart tear out of his chest and leave with the bouncing curls that walked away. Every bone in his body wanted to follow.

But instead he climbed into the Potter’s car and endured the torturous small talk, feeling his anxiety build with every passing second. He let out a breath of relief when they pulled into the driveway, until it struck him that he was there. And he actually had to do it.

James wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, squeezing supportively. “You know you don’t have to, right? It’s okay.”

“I know, I know. I want to. And I’m ready,” Sirius said, hoping he sounded convincing.

Mrs. Potter greeted the boys with a wide smile and a warm hug. She launched into the same questions that Mr. Potter had asked but didn’t get very far when Sirius cut them off.

“I have something to tell you.” He mumbled, before he could back out entirely. He couldn’t look them in the eye.

“Oh, okay.” Mrs. Potter began, her voice soft, calming, but worried. “Is everything alright?” She and her husband sat slowly, attention fixed on Sirius. When he didn’t speak for a moment, their eyes flitted up to James, silent questions exchanging between glances.

Euphemia placed a hand on Sirius’ gently. “Whatever it is, we’re here for you, and we love you. No matter what.”

Sirius began to cry. His shoulders shook with the overwhelming emotions that crashed over him like tidal waves. “I dunno how to say this, really… and I get it if your opinion of me changes… or if you need time to think it over,” he took in a shaky breath, “but I’m gay.” The words hung in the air between them, Sirius feeling his chest tighten, unable to breathe.

“Oh, Sirius. Darling,” Mrs. Potter wrapped him up in a warm hug, wiping his tears with a sweet smile on her face. “I thought you were going to say something terrible! We’re so proud of you.” She let go, only to let Mr. Potter embrace Sirius, his calloused hands patting Sirius’ back.

“Thank you for sharing this with us, son.” The gruff voice in his ear made Sirius hold on tighter. Fleamont didn’t let go until Sirius did, dragging a stray hand over his face to catch the last falling tears.

***

###  July, 1977

James received the letter midway through the summer, to the surprise of the Potters.

“It’s a bit early for booklists isn’t it?” Mrs. Potter remarked while handing over the envelope stamped with the familiar Hogwarts seal.

They’d been eating breakfast, James and Sirius still in their pajamas, barely awake, when the owl had swooped in. It chirped once, accepting a piece of James’ waffle as payment, before flying back out the window.

The letter was heavy, and a portion of it bulged strangely. James tore open the envelope and out fell a heavy badge, landing on the wooden table with a  _ clink _ .

Sirius grabbed it as James read through the note attached. They seemed to reach the same conclusion at once.

“Bullshit.”

“Holy fuck—”

“Language boys!” Mrs. Potter reprimanded, but she didn’t seem all that pressed about it. “What’s the news?”

James’ eyes were wide, reflecting back at him in the shiny badge. “But—Remus was prefect, shouldn’t it be… maybe it went to the wrong house,” he said, unbelieving. “There must’ve been a mistake.”

Sirius had snatched the letter, and was reading it intently. “Says your name mate.” Finally they acknowledged Euphemia, who was leaning over the island curiously. “James’ been made Head Boy.”

She clapped her hands together excitedly, “Well, that’s lovely! I’m so proud of you—”

“What the hell am I gonna do?”

Sirius was looking forward to a very interesting year.

***

###  August, 1977

James Potter was completely out of his element, but having the time of his life. Wearing a skirt of all things (it was beautiful, and he looked fantastic, he could admit that—but it was far out of his comfort zone for sure) in a sweaty and packed disco called “Yours or Mine,” and nearly everyone around him was gay.

Sirius had dragged the Marauders out to London, raving about the nightlife and wanting to introduce them to his muggle friends, and they’d spent hours longer than James had ever even considered thinking about what he was wearing, preparing for the club. Sirius came alive, having spent more than enough time in the vintage store to know where to find each boy the perfect outfit for a night out.

For Remus, flared disco pants with brightly colored flowers all over, with a loose, half-open button up. He’d tried on a leather mini skirt at first (all Sirius could say for the next five minutes was “ _ Wow _ .”) but had asked for slightly more coverage. Even after the outfit change, he kept trying to button more, hiding the scars on his chest (“What if someone asks where I got them?”) but Sirius pressed a kiss to his lips and undid the button. “It’s a look, babe. And if anyone asks, just say your boyfriend is an absolute freak.” Remus looked downright horrified, “What? They’ll believe it!”

For Peter, a more conservative look, as he’d objected to nearly everything put in front of him (“Padfoot, I love you, but I will not be putting on a dress today”). He had, however, allowed Alexander and his boyfriend to paint his nails in a rainbow, which Sirius counted as a win.

For himself, a short, pleated black skirt that he could tell was just driving Remus mad, and a blouse the same shade as Remus’ eyes. He layered cheap silver necklaces that led the eye tantalizingly downward and grabbed a few of his favorite rings. His eyes were darkened with some eyeliner that the other boys had been too afraid to try (“You put a sharpened pencil that close to your eye? Nope, I’m out—”).

And lastly, James, who’d put up a good fight, but inevitably agreed to wearing a longer skirt, one that just brushed past his knees, and layering an oversized polo on top. He’d even allowed Sirius to put some glitter on his cheeks. Remus snapped a picture with his polaroid. “If anyone shows that to Lily, I’ll have you murdered in cold blood. Actually no, I’ll do it myself—”

“Alright, alright. Calm down Prongs. Now, before we leave, what do you say if someone asks if you’re a friend of Dorothy?” Sirius prompted, having taught them a few of the euphemisms they might encounter.

“Friend of a friend,” James and Peter chanted in unison.

“I’m taken.” Remus said at the same time.

Sirius clapped his hands together, “Brilliant!” 

So off they went, the Marauders, Alexander, and Michael, wandering down the dark streets, arms slung around each other.

The music was mind-numbingly loud in Remus’ ears but he liked it. Sirius was right—nobody cared who anyone was here. It was exhilarating, the freedom of anonymity. He had no one to please, no one to impress, no one to disappoint. He closed his eyes and let the beat flow through him. The lights danced over his skin, illuminating scars that had never seen the light of day—and technically, still hadn’t.

Sirius was mesmerized. He couldn’t take his eyes off his wonderful boyfriend—the way his hips moved and his lips parted into the most brilliant smile Sirius had ever seen. He looked so careless, so undisturbed by any of it. He was glowing. And Sirius was in love. Really in love.

It hit him like a fist to the face. He was in love. With Remus Lupin.

His heartbeat raced, pounding in his ears. He’d never thought about this moment before, and what he would do when he got to that point. He hadn’t even considered the fact that Remus was so incredibly lovable that he, Sirius, could fall head over heels in love with him, because Sirius hadn’t even thought he was capable of a love like this.

A love that captures the mind and body and spirit as one and melts every fiber of his being until all he knew was that he loved him. A love that shimmered in the stray glitter that had fallen onto Remus’ chest, highlighting his collarbones. A love that devoured and ensnared and smiled in the face of opposition. A love that made Sirius so giddy, so delirious, that he pulled his boyfriend in by the hips, “I love you.”

Remus was still dancing under Sirius’ gentle palms. “What did you say?” he shouted over the noise.

Sirius leaned in close, his lips impossibly close to his skin, warm breath fluttering over Remus’ flushed cheeks. “I love you,” he repeated. And then he said it again. And again, and-

“I love you too.” Remus’ eyes were wide with excitement and complete adoration.

And love.

He lifted his boyfriend by the waist and twirled him around in a circle, letting their lips find a natural rhythm. Sirius was over the moon. He loved Remus, and Remus loved him.

***


	23. September, November, and December, 1977

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveness. Lily reaches a slightly worrying conclusion about herself. The boys arrange a Christmas surprise.

##  Year 7

###  September, 1977

The news of Sirius and Remus’ relationship spread through Hogwarts like wildfire. It started on the train, when a couple Slytherin fifth years passed the Marauders’ compartment and caught the pair in a moment; Sirius gazing into Remus’ eyes, holding his hands, and then kissing him lovingly on the cheek.

They’d snickered viciously and raced off. By the time students were shuffling out of the Great Hall after the feast, nearly everyone had heard. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been speculation before, hell, the whole Gryffindor common room had watched their depressing yet adorable game of cat and mouse for the past two years, but this time there was actual confirmation.

To his surprise, Remus didn’t actually mind people knowing. Besides the well-intended but very awkward Hufflepuff third years who’d approached him, telling him he and his boyfriend were very cute and they’d ‘shipped’ them since fifth year (Remus didn’t know what that word meant and honestly, he didn’t want to), most people reacted fine.

In fact, most people actually didn’t care at all.

One person seemed to, however.

Regulus Black approached the Marauders cautiously as they lay on the grass, enjoying one of the final warm days in the sun before the bitter cold autumn set in. He tugged on the ends of his sleeves nervously as he walked. Sirius sat up as he came closer, eyeing his brother carefully. It was the first time they’d spoken since Sirius had moved out. That fleeting summer afternoon felt like an eternity ago.

He looked different than Sirius had remembered. Taller, and more in control, like he’d finally grown into a body that used to be too big for him. That was one of the more painful side effects of not going home for the summer, his brother grew up without him.

Regulus started off with an anxious smile, “Hey.” He pulled a crumpled note from his back pocket, causing Remus to burst out laughing. His cheeks warmed as everyone looked over toward him.

“Sorry, sorry. I guess it runs in the family.” He stifled his laughter, “Hi Regulus.”

The boy gave him a little wave and then turned his attention back to his brother. “Sirius, I just wanted to say… I’m really really sorry. I was an idiot and cruel and I hurt you and the worst part is I meant to and…” he faltered. “I just wanted to say I’m really happy for you. And even if you can’t forgive me—”

Sirius got to his feet and wrapped his arms around his little brother. Regulus collapsed into the embrace. “It’s been so long…” he whispered into Sirius’ shoulder.

“I know. It’s okay.”

After a moment Regulus pulled back, “Wait, wait that wasn’t all I wanted to say.” He collected himself and turned to Remus, “I wanted to tell you I think you’re a really cool guy and I hope we can get to know each other—”

“Hold on!” Sirius interjected, “You can’t go stealing my boyfriend.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, “Can you take one thing seriously?”

“I don’t think he can,” Remus answered for him. “It might break his little mind.”

“Hey!”

“And!” Regulus spoke up again, recapturing the attention he’d lost, “James, thank you for being such a good brother… while I was being a lousy one.”

James lifted a lazy hand and high fived the still-standing Regulus, “Welcome to the family, bro. You’re welcome anytime.”

Regulus’ eyes lit up at this. He didn’t clash with his parents as much as Sirius had, but the idea of getting to visit his brother whenever he wanted made him happier than he’d ever admit to Sirius’ face. “Really? Thanks!”

“You wanna sit?” Sirius gestured to a patch of grass beside him.

“Hang on, what am I? Chopped liver?” Peter finally spoke up.

Regulus seemed uncomfortable, “Oh, uh. Thanks for being a good friend to Sirius, I guess.” It was a weak compliment and completely made up on the spot, but seemed to satisfy the fourth Marauder.

Regulus sat down beside his brother and lay back, letting his hair spread out in the grass. He didn't think about the tattoo burning through his sleeve, hiding in plain sight on his forearm. They lay there in comfortable silence until all the world melted away into autumn sun beams.

***

###  November, 1977

Lily Evans, in all her infinite wisdom, was finally coming to an important conclusion about herself. And she did not like it one bit.

She’d started noticing the change a few weeks prior, when she started giggling at James Potter’s absolutely terrible jokes in Transfiguration. Her cheeks lit up when he’d sent her a casual wink, noticing her attention. Then again, when she started planning her outfits for the quidditch matches in advance, on the off chance he snuck a glance her way during the game. More troubling still, the time she caught herself admiring his hair at breakfast, wondering what it was like to ruffle a hand through it.

Worst of all, she couldn’t avoid him, with their being Head Boy and Head Girl and all.

Lily was studying with Remus in the library when she finally said it out loud. “I think I’m starting to have a crush on James.” The heat rose in her face as soon as she’d said it, in a hushed whisper, on the off chance he was, for some reason, hiding around the library.

The confession sent Remus into an incurable fit of laughter, even as she swatted him with her (notably quite thick) charms book. “This. Is. Not. Funny!” she huffed.

“Oh, c’mon Lil—it’s a  _ bit _ funny.” She huffed again but didn’t respond. “I mean, he’s liked you for, what, six years straight? Vying for your attention with stupid pranks and spells that backfired hilariously, only for you to like him as soon as he stops trying?”

Lily covered her red face with a hand, groaning, “I know. It’s pathetic.” She slumped over the table, her red hair splaying over her shoulders and onto their books, “It’s just… he’s been so kind this year, and funny, and sweet, and—oh my god, listen to me.”

Remus shrugged, “He has been less of a prat recently.”

“What do I do?” Lily begged, desperate.

“What d’you wanna do? I’m no love expert.”

“Oh, stop it. Look at you and Sirius, all young and in love and happy. How’m I supposed to do that with  _ James Potter _ ?”

“First of all, this thing with Sirius was much harder than just— _ poof— _ young and in love and happy. You of all people should know that, you’ve had to deal with me all this time. And secondly, James is a great guy! Is he an idiot sometimes? Yes. Can he make some pretty terrible life choices every so often? Also yes. Is he—”

“Remus, you’re really not doing the best job of talking your friend up.” Lily peeked her head up. “I meant, how do I get rid of these irritating emotions that apparently make James Potter funny and cute in my head.”

“Good luck with that. Turning off your feelings I mean. Years of trying and I never quite figured it out, though I’m happier for it.”

Lily slumped back down, “So it’s hopeless.”

Remus gave her a small grin, “Or… you could give him a chance?”

“No,” she grumbled, but the sound was muffled by the way she was lying on the table.

“Hm? What was that?” Remus teased.

“No. No way,” she repeated, a bit clearer, lifting her head only to glare daggers his way.

He held up his hands in surrender, “Whoa. Got it. Message delivered.” He paused, “But I’m just saying—”

“Remus!”

“Fine,” he huffed. “Can I tell Sirius?”

“No!”

***

###  December, 1977

It was the boy’s last Christmas at school, and they wanted to spend it together. Unfortunately for Remus, the full moon fell on Christmas. At least they’d be together, he thought bitterly. He just wouldn’t remember it.

He tried not to let the idea of spending the night after his last Christmas at Hogwarts curled up inside a cold, broken, and boarded up house on the edge of Hogsmead ruin the fun of the day. It wasn’t easy. He knew the boys would be with him, but it didn’t do much to ease the sadness. There were so many lasts this year, and this was just the first to be tainted by his condition.

The boys waited together in anticipation for Remus to be collected by Madame Pomfrey; he’d tried insisting that he was old enough now to remember to go on his own, but she still came, every evening of the full moon anyway.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder, watching the embers in the fire crackle and smoulder. Their hands lay gently on top of each other. Remus wanted to fidget, the natural anxiety surrounding the full moon building up, but each time he moved, Sirius gave him a small tap, one finger, right to the center of his hand. It was a tiny motion, barely detectable to anyone else, but to Remus it said, “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Remus wanted to fall asleep on the common room couch, cuddling with Sirius, the faint laughter from James and Peter ringing in his ears. But Madame Pomfrey came to take him away, and away he went.

He entered the Shrieking Shack alone, as he always did. He walked the familiar route down the dark passage, cold air wrapping around his bones, hearing the sound of a bell—

Remus looked down. He picked up a small, round, silver bell that he’d kicked on the way into the shack. And then he looked around the corner.

Inside the Shrieking Shack were the most outrageous Christmas decorations Remus had ever seen. Immaculately decorated trees that stood nearly as tall at the ceilings, tinsel wrapping around the railings of the collapsing staircases, even a sprinkling of magically unmeltable snow. Remus cracked a smile.

“How the hell did you manage this?” He didn’t have to turn around, he knew his friends would be right behind him.

Sirius wrapped an arm around him and planted a kiss on his cheek, “Look,” he pointed up. “Mistletoe.”

Peter’s voice echoed down the long tunnel as he approached, “Remind me why we put that there exactly? Because I am not kissing James tonight—”

Remus chuckled, “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“With magic, of course.” James replied, traveling down the passage himself. “Professor Flitwick helped, he loves Christmas, you know that? Overheard us talking after class—offered to bring in live faeries to lend a hand.”

“Well, it looks stunning. Too bad we’re going to ruin it all in a half hour when I transform.”

James paused, his face falling ever so slightly. “Oh yeah. I’d almost forgotten about that part. Well whatever, the point is you like it and we’re the best mates you could ever ask for.”

A wide grin spread across Remus’ face as he turned to his friends. “That is true. Now, why don’t we enjoy it while it lasts.”

***


	24. January, 1978

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius promises Remus the best one year anniversary in his life.

###  January, 1978

“—they decorated the place, all for me! And I’m pretty sure James led the charge, he was—”

Lily covered her ears, “La la la la la—I can’t hear you!”

Remus took her hands off her face. “Lil, stop it. I’m allowed to talk about my friends!”

“Don’t give me another reason to think he’s a decent person. I’m already suffering enough as it is.”

“He  _ is _ a decent person!” Remus insisted.

“Who’s a decent person?” James asked, santering up to the pair.

“Nobody.” Lily responded sharply before Remus could open his mouth. “No one at all, thanks for asking.”

“Jeez, sorry Evans. I was just coming over to tell Remus that Sirius is looking for him—”

But at that very moment, a very breathless Sirius Black came barreling towards them. “Moony! I just received—” he panted for a few seconds, catching his breath, “the funniest, most amazing—” another wheeze, “thing I’ve ever heard.” He held up a seven inch vinyl but tore it away before Remus could read the title.

“Better than Bohemian Rhapsody?” Remus questioned.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask me that, you know it isn’t. But,” he emphasized, “I need you to come with me, right now. Prongs, Lily, you can come too if you can keep up.”

With that, he grabbed Remus’ arm and sprinted off, running in the direction of the record player room. James and Lily exchanged confused looks and then followed. When they arrived, Sirius was placing the disc gently on the player. A funky piano melody began emitting from the speakers.

Sirius started dancing, which of course meant James started dancing. They looked absolutely idiotic, and also completely adorable. Lily found herself standing beside Remus, watching James while Remus watched Sirius. She tried not to let the idea freak her out too much.

“Hang on, this is the very best part—the chorus.” He howled along with the track, “Aaooooo, Werewolves of London!” He pointed toward Remus, who looked positively horrified. James and Lily were too busy cracking up to even notice.

“Where the fuck did you find this song?”

“Alexander sent it to me—a new record he found and thought I’d like. He’s got no idea! It’s a muggle artist too—” then the chorus came back in. Sirius was joined by James, and to everyone’s surprise, Lily.

“Lily!” Remus protested.

“What? It’s a  _ bit _ funny,” she said, throwing his words back at him.

“I’m gonna tell James—”

Lily clamped a hand over his mouth, “Don’t you dare.”

“Okay, okay! I won’t,” Remus’s voice was muffled behind Lily’s fingers. “You caught my bluff. I’m not that mean.”

“Tell me what?” James asked innocently.

Lily’s voice had a dangerous edge to it, “Never you mind, go back to howling at the moon with Sirius.”

James stopped for a moment, debating whether or not he wanted to press it further, but decided he liked his body with all his limbs attached, and turned right around.

“Aaooooo, Werewolves of London!”

***

Sirius had never celebrated a one year anniversary. Well, he’d never been in a relationship, so that was obvious. But still, he’d never celebrated a one year anniversary and he was beginning to curse the overeager him of last month that had offered to plan the whole day. “January 22nd, 1978,” he’d promised, standing on his tiptoes to lay a kiss on his boyfriend’s temple, “will be the best day of your whole life.”

_ Who makes promises like that? _

He’d tried enlisting the help of James and Peter, but their ideas were either the stupidest things Sirius had ever heard, or involved a lewd amount of sex—which, while not unfavorable in Sirius’ opinion, didn’t seem romantic enough to quite meet the expectations of a perfect first anniversary.

It was too late to send an owl to Alexander, by the time he thought about it and replied, the day would have come and gone.

So Sirius found himself turning to Lily Evans.

“Any ideas? I’m absolutely desperate, Evans.”

“Well an obvious choice would be to relive your first date. Or possibly your favorite memories together, even from before you actually got together, since that seemed to take forever.”

Sirius clapped his hands together, “Brilliant! See, I knew I could count on you. And for a special gift? It doesn’t have to be big, but I want it to be meaningful. Something that says, ‘I’ve loved this past year more than anything and I hope we stay like this for the rest of time.’”

_ No pressure.  _ “He does seem to love your jewelry…” she said, thinking. Remus had kept up his nervous habit of playing with Sirius rings, occasionally even stealing a few off his nightstand to wear for the day. Sirius didn't mind. He liked sharing. “Do they have promise rings in the wizarding world?”

“Promise rings?” he echoed, puzzled.

“I’ll take that as a no.” She quickly explained the idea, and watched as Sirius’ eyes lit up with excitement.

“And you’re certain he’s familiar with the concept?”

“He’s certainly more well acquainted with the muggle world than you are.”

The next Hogsmeade weekend, Sirius split off from his friends, telling them he had a few items to purchase from Gladrags Wizardwear—boring stuff—and that they should go ahead to the Three Broomsticks without him.

He rushed in, cheeks flushed from the cold and snow, eyes tearing through the store until he spotted them. Up front, a few assorted silver rings lying in a tray. Few seemed to have been touched, though Sirius began digging through the stock as soon as he reached it.

After a moment, he held them aloft. Two rings, not twins, but alike in pairing. One, a thicker set, with a crescent moon carved out of the center. The other, a thinner frame, holding the charm that had been removed from the other. When he held them together, they linked perfectly.

“I’ll take them,” he exclaimed excitedly to the store owner.

“Shopping for your girlfriend are you? A bit early for Valentine’s Day, good on you for being ahead of the crowd.” Sirius didn’t correct him, too taken aback for a moment to even think about what to say. “That’ll be sixteen sickles.” It was too late to say anything. To say anything would be to bring it up, to make a moment out of it, to push it in the man’s face. Still, Sirius wished he’d said something. He handed over the coins wordlessly.

It was just another reminder that he was an  _ other _ . Not the default. Not Normal. These moments tended to fade quickly, but it still pierced deep for the few minutes in which they lived in Sirius’ head.

But then it was the day of Sirius and Remus’ anniversary. The morning of January 22nd, Sirius dragged Remus out of bed and told him to throw on some warm clothes, as they’d be spending quite a bit of time outside. “Might I suggest the green sweater you look so adorable in,” Sirius noted with a bright smile on his face. He held out a hand, and Remus took it.

Sirius led them down to the grounds, “We’re going to recreate our favorite moments at Hogwarts today. Starting with…” they reached the top of the hill, “Race you to the forest!”

They took off, Remus far out-pacing Sirius this time around, his long legs coming in handy, but he slowed so they could reach the trees together. Sirius flipped himself upside-down, just as agile as ever in that department. He swung forward and made to reach for Remus.

“What’re you doing?” Remus asked, amused.

“Trying to kiss you, of course—”

“You’re going to hit your head, Sirius.” It was true; he swung dangerously close to another branch.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I can already feel the blood rushing to my brain, just kiss me already, will you?” he demanded, but his tone was humorous and gentle.

Remus bent down to press a kiss to his lips.

“Happy anniversary, by the way,” Remus spoke through a loving smile. “We haven’t said it yet today.”

Sirius flipped back over, “Oh, god. We haven’t, have we. I really thought I had this all down—”

“Sirius,” Remus grabbed his boyfriend’s hand.

“Happy anniversary.”

They built a snowman next, omitting Professor Dumbledore’s hat this time around, if only as a courtesy to the headmaster. It was much more impressive this time around, with significantly more snow on the ground.

The hours that followed were taken up by their favorite memories, discussion and laughter and smiles and re-enactment. Remus chimed in with his own ideas after a while.

They ended up in the Three Broomsticks, both a bit exhausted, in the best way, from the day. Sirius ordered them two butterbeers and they held hands casually as they waited. Sirius couldn’t believe how easily he’d become accustomed to such public affection. So different from the boy who’d glanced around them nervously all last year.

After they’d properly warmed up, Sirius suggested they swap presents.

“We’d have to go back to the room for mine then,” Remus noted. “It was a bit too big to lug around with us all day.”

So they headed back to the dormitory, making small talk that came so much easier after a year of talking openly. Sirius opened the door and found his gift lying, unwrapped, on his bedside table. It was sleek, black and red and arguably the most beautiful thing Sirius had ever seen (if you didn't count Remus).

He instantly jumped up and down in excitement, “You got me a record player?! My very own—” Sirius rushed over, and then promptly back to throw his arms around Remus. “Oh Merlin, this is the best day ever.”

Remus laughed with delight, “I was honestly getting worried about you smuggling McGonagall’s back and forth so often.” He smiled, sweet and wide, “I’m glad you like it.”

Once Sirius had calmed down about his own present, he remembered the rings in his back pocket. He took a deep breath. “I was going to prepare a speech for this, but then I remembered you’d just laugh at me as I read from a sheet of paper, so…” he procured a note from his back pocket. “You get to read it this time.”

“ _ Dearest Remus, _ ” the freckled boy began, “You really went all out on this—”

“Just read it, Rem.”

“ _ Dearest Remus, Lily introduced me to a muggle concept I hope you are aware of that involves promises. I promise to love you, and care for you, on full moons and new moons and everything in between. I promise to buy you as many sweaters as I can ever find, and to only ever steal one chocolate per box. I promise to be the best boyfriend I can be, and to challenge myself to always do more, be more, for you. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. I’ve always been nervous about making such big promises to you, but you give me the strength to know they’re true. I hope you accept my gift of promise rings—” _

Remus ripped his eyes from the paper to find Sirius, on one knee, holding the pair of rings aloft. Remus felt a rush of air burst into his lungs as he grinned wider. He silently held out his left hand and watched incredulously as Sirius slipped the daintier of the two onto his finger.

It was only after, when they were cuddled together on Remus’ bed, Sirius fingers weaving through Remus’ hair gently, that Remus brought up what had been running through his mind since that moment.

“Did Lily tell you that promise rings typically come as a promise to get engaged once we’re old enough?”

Sirius’ hands paused, if only for a moment. When he resumed, he spoke quietly, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Remus flipped over on his stomach so he could look into Sirius’ beautiful eyes as he replied, “Me neither. Not one bit.” He pressed a soft kiss to Sirius’ cheek.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song referenced is "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon. if you're looking for a laugh and a mini dance party, definitely check it out


	25. March, May, and June, 1978, and September, 1979

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few interludes and an ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is it. i actually couldn't bring myself to post this for a whole day 'cause i didn't want it to be over, but it's right.
> 
> thank you to everyone who's gotten this far with me

###  March, 1978

Now that Remus’ love was allowed to blossom freely, entirely unchecked and uninhibited by fear or shame or doubt, he allowed himself to fall deeper in love with Sirius every time he saw him.

Remus did all the things he’d always wanted to do—giving Sirius his sweatshirts and laughing when they fit him like a dress, passing notes in class with little lovely messages, kissing him goodnight in the dormitory when everyone else was asleep. Sometimes when they walked the hall, he’d slip a hand into Sirius’ back pocket, or lock his pinky around the other boy’s finger. Any point of connection was something to cherish—a moment neither of them would ever want to break.

It was actually painfully adorable how the two of them were, and it brought a smile to nearly every passer-by in the corridors. Sirius, the leather jacket wearing, painted nails having, motorcycle driving (as of late), smart mouthed badass, positively swooning for the tall, lanky, scarred, sweater-adoring dork anytime he walked into the room. He couldn’t help it. Remus made his mouth run dry and his heart pound and finally,  _ finally  _ he didn’t have to hide anything.

He gave into ignoring all his inhibitions. He held Remus’ hand proudly, let him play with his hair in the common room, lying his head in Remus’ lap by the fire and closing his eyes. As long as he was with Remus, he would be okay.

Sometimes, he’d even find himself, while Remus was going on and on about a subject Sirius most certainly could not understand but tried to anyway, zoning out, simply staring at the goofy, radiant smile that only came out when Remus’ was incredibly passionate about a subject. Or, when he was looking at his love.

The Marauders were at their best, now that Sirius and Remus were done with their silly games and had more than settled into the easy rhythm of a loving relationship.

There were many many nights (probably more than some of the students who were actually trying to study cared for) where the Gryffindor common room was serenaded by the not-so-faint songs drifting from the boys’ dormitory, courtesy of Sirius’ new record player. It wasn’t always love songs, though there were plenty of those as well. Queen was a repeat favorite, with Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, We Will Rock You, and We Are The Champions (especially after a quidditch win). But, if Sirius had been able to smuggle some firewhiskey into the room, ABBA made an appearance, complete with terrible, off-key renditions of Dancing Queen and Honey, Honey.

***

###  May, 1978

It was finally the day of the last Quidditch Cup match, between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and James was more nervous than he’d ever been for a game. His mind was reeling with spiralling thoughts of  _ lasts,  _ something that he’d been struggling with all year.

Lasts were supposed to be big, monumental moments that were written in record books and talked about for years afterwards. They were exciting, and wonderful, and bittersweet. Lasts were supposed to make him want to laugh and cry and cheer, all at the same time. And if he lost this game, it would be his last, no matter what. He’d never play quidditch with those people, in that stadium, with the same stakes, ever again.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

James hardly ate at breakfast. “Morning captain!” Sirius greeted him cheerfully. “Ready to lead the team to victory?”

“No,” James groaned. “I’m freaking out here.”

Peter sat down, “Why? You’ve always gone into quidditch matches with confidence and it's usually worked out for you?”

“Yeah, but this is different. This is my final one. This is the one people will remember long after I’m gone.”

Remus and Sirius exchanged exhausted looks. They tended to do that, silent communication in shared glances, now more than ever. This one said  _ James can be so dramatic sometimes _ . “Well… you aren’t dying yet.” Remus approached carefully, “And you’ve played enough great games for people to remember you by even if this one is a horrible flop—”

“Wow, wonderful job hyping me up, Moony.”

Sirius stepped in, “You’ll be fine. You just need a little extra encouragement—”

“Good luck in the game today, James!” Lily said sweetly as she walked past.

“Lily!” Sirius grabbed her arm and tugged her toward them, “Just as we need you, James needs some extra motivation for the game tonight.”

“What am I supposed to do about that?” she asked earnestly, not fighting back about being pulled into their conversation. After so many years, she’d learned to live with the fact that the Marauders were a permanent facet in her life. And she didn’t really mind.

Remus whispered a suggestion in her ear. She blushed, looking back at him, eyebrows raised. For a moment, their eyes silently battled in challenge, but then she bent down and whispered her own message to James. He turned bright red, head snapping to meet her eyes. “No way. Really? Like, actually?”

She nodded nonchalantly, “Probably.”

“That’s good enough for me!” Suddenly, James was invigorated with the energy he’d been unable to find. “Let’s do this. I’m ready. I gotta win this…”

He chanted to himself all the way down to the pitch. His teammates were slightly concerned, but decided not to ask. James had always had his strange pre-quidditch traditions.

“Are you actually gonna do it?” Remus asked Lily as they walked down to the stands.

She blushed, “I think so.”

“I really thought you were going to slap me for suggesting it.”

“I thought about it,” Lily deadpanned

“Will someone fill me in? Please?” Peter begged.

“It’ll be a surprise for the after party, Wormtail,” Remus said, brushing off his questions as they continued to roll in.

That game was the best match James had ever played. Despite his high standards, even James admitted it was well worthy enough for a last. He whizzed across the field, scoring goal after goal after goal, bringing Gryffindor’s lead well above what it needed to be to win the cup. His friends watched from below, cheering him on the whole way.

Lily never took her eyes off of the swift chaser, finally letting herself admire him. She didn’t know how he managed to look so good while riding around on a broom, but the wind seemed to just make his messy hair more adorable. He looked strong and powerful, completely in control. Something about the way he commanded the pitch, encouraging his teammates and dodging Ravenclaw’s players made her heart flutter. The slightly-nervous-but-still-radiant smile he sent her after each goal didn’t help. With each passing moment, she built up her courage.

When the match was finally over, James raced through the locker room, showering and putting on his clothes faster than anyone else. He climbed through the portrait hole, whole body humming with excited energy. He was met with cheers from his friends and fellow housemates, but his eyes scanned the crowd for one face.

He barely had a moment to process the figure coming toward him, face alight with excitement, joy, and sheer determination, before Lily Evan pressed her lips to his.

Lily Evans. Kissing him.

James was melting but he was on top of the world. Her hands were warm, cupping his face, and her lips were soft and it was  _ Lily Evans _ , the girl he’d loved since the first day he’d laid eyes on her. He could faintly hear the cheers from surrounding onlookers, but they were muted. Someone wolf whistled, probably Sirius. He didn’t care. The only thing in the world that mattered in that moment was Lily Evans and that fact that she was kissing him.

From beside them, Remus snapped a picture.

Their lips parted and James felt like he was flying all over again, gazing into the most beautiful eyes he never thought he’d see this close. “Three Broomsticks? Next Hogsmead trip?”

Lily smiled and gave him a nod, “It’s a date.”

“Brilliant.”

***

###  June, 1978

It was the summer after the Marauders’ seventh year that Remus discovered his love for Jane Austen novels. He’d rented a small, run down, three bedroom apartment with the other three boys, paying for it with James’ riches and a bit of spare change that Remus picked up working at a local muggle bookstore. Wizards didn’t tend to hire werewolves if they could help it, the stigma was still too strong for him to last at any job for too long, but the muggles didn’t seem to catch on whenever he needed a night off once a month, allegedly celebrating an anniversary, or visiting friends in the countryside.

Sirius continued to visit Alexander’s vintage shop, one of the boys' sole ways of obtaining clothing, now co-owned by him and Michael, who had recently eloped. Sometimes things moved faster when the cost of affection made itself so painfully known every so often, when clubs were raided or shut down.

The couple seemed happy however, and Sirius was delighted at the news. Little did he know how fast things would move when the looming threat of war became a reality.

Peter must have gotten a job as well, or maybe a girlfriend, as he took to disappearing in the daylight hours, but he hadn’t yet told them what he was up to when he was out of sight. It hadn’t bothered the boys too much. Peter had grown more secretive over the prior year and they figured if it was anything important, he would tell them.

As for James and Lily, they had begun to talk in length to Dumbledore, about matters that seemed far too real for such recent adults as they were. An incoming war, mysterious disappearances, dark magic, all seemed to be the types of things that real grown ups dealt with—great wizards like Dumbledore and the Aurors, people with responsibility, and real jobs.

So, despite the meetings, the talk of an organization called the Order of the Phoenix, and some nameless wizard who was gaining murder-happy followers, the Marauders’ lived fairly unbothered lives.

And Remus was reading a landslide of Jane Austen novels. He laid down  _ Pride and Prejudice _ late one evening when just he and Sirius were in the room. “I wish everyone still spoke like this. It’s just so sweet…”

Sirius craned his neck to read over his shoulder. “I could do that. If you wanted?”

Remus blushed, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“No, I have a brilliant idea.” Sirius pulled Remus off the couch. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he whispered excitedly as they walked. They found themselves in the vintage store just as it was closing.

“Sorry, just a few quick things,” Sirius apologized to Alexander, already digging through the piles. He found clothes that vaguely resembled the early-nineteenth century, mostly just loose-fitting shirts with suit jackets, and quickly dragged Remus into the fitting room.

Once they were completely changed, Sirius brought Remus out into the street. And there they began to dance, under the moon, the silence of the night as their only music.

“ You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” Sirius whispered softly into Remus’ ear, holding him closely to his chest and swaying gently from side to side.

Remus pulled back slightly to look Sirius in the eyes, “You’ve read Jane Austen?”

Sirius chuckled, “Not exactly. I skim over your shoulder every so often, though.”

“So I take it you don’t know that right after that line, Elizabeth Bennet absolutely refuses Mr. Darcy’s affections—quite harshly if I do say so myself.”

Heat rose to Sirius’ cheeks, luckily hidden by the shadows of the moon. “I… did not know that, no.” He paused, “I suppose I’ll make up my own then.” He leaned in once more, “I love you so much more than I could have imagined was possible. It’s honestly quite disorienting, though I have never enjoyed disorientation as much as this. And though my pride is a bit wounded by my own previous error, I want nothing more in the world than to have you cradle my face in your palms and lay gentle kisses onto my lips until we forget the time, the chill, our own names.” He bit back a smile, whispering, “How was that?”

Remus felt the rush of love overwhelm him once more, as it often did in these lovely small moments. “Perfect.”

***

###  September, 1979

Lily and James’ Potter’s wedding was a quiet affair, and fairly small; their closest friends and family gathered in a few tents in the backyard of the Potter’s house. The weight of the coming war had made itself more prevalent over the last year for anything more extravagant, though neither of the two lovers minded very much. It was the same pressure that had led the pair to marry sooner rather than later, but they had both been sure enough in love to doubt that it would’ve happened even if they’d not had the fear of war.

Lily looked stunning, of course, with white flowers braided into her hair and a flowing gown that could have made a veela jealous. She’d made James cry the moment she began down the aisle, a fact which would have earned him months of ridicule from the Marauders, had the rest of them not also shed tears of their own throughout the service.

Sirius served as James’ best man, as the closest thing he had to a brother, a title which he wore with pride. His heart had swelled when James had asked him, in the rush to plan the wedding. The boys looked dapper in their dark suits, and posed together for picture after picture when the ceremony was over. They shared laughs, the four of them and Lily, a family of their own. Remus pressed a kiss to Lily’s cheek after photos were done, whispering congratulations in her ear through hiccuped sobs. She squeezed him into a hug.

But it was time for the bouquet toss, so Sirius dragged Remus out of the embrace as Lily called all the single party goers to stand behind her. Remus was chatting with James, watching the way his eyes glowed in the firelight as he watched his wife dancing and smiling. He hadn’t even noticed Lily coming toward him with her bouquet until she was right in front of him, pressing the flowers into his hands gently. He looked up in surprise and confusion, as she motioned for him to turn around.

There, he found Sirius Black, down on one knee, holding up a beautiful engagement band. Hope and love and pure joy burned in his stormy eyes as he beamed up at the love of his life. “Remus Lupin, will you make me the happiest man—”

“Second happiest—” James cut in, pulling Lily into his side with a wide smile.

Sirius reached out to knock James over, but the groom jumped back just in time. “Will you make me the  _ second _ ,” he gritted through his teeth jokingly, “happiest man on Earth, and do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Remus couldn’t breathe. His heart was swelling with so much love he felt as if he might explode. He felt the heat and energy radiating off him in waves, overflowing as he reached into his own pocket and pulled out the engagement ring he’d been anxiously holding on to all night.

Sirius jumped to his feet and pulled his fiance into a tight embrace as their friends cheered behind them. The applause and congratulations barely entered their bubble, where Sirius was whispering in Remus’ ear, “Beat you to it, did I?”

Remus smiled wider, “Of course you did, I never would have dreamed of stealing Lily and James’ big day. I was going to wait until after.” He was over the moon.  _ He was going to marry Sirius Black. _

The after party was a well needed break from the anxiety of incoming war. The champagne and firewhiskey flowed freely and for a moment all anxiety, all terror of what was to come, melted off their young shoulders to the beat of their favorite songs. Former classmates and distant relatives came up to congratulate Remus and Sirius on their engagement, Lily coming last of all, as she finally managed to drag herself away from a particularly talkative aunt.

They didn’t get to talk for long, as soon James and Sirius were pulling their partners onto the dancefloor, ready to party with the respective loves of their lives. As the friends danced the night away, creating blurred memories, lovingly (though poorly) captured on Remus’ camera, and downing a few too many bottles of whatever was left at the bar, they felt immortal. Untouchable.  _ Alive _ .

The moon watched over them lovingly.

None of them could have imagined the carnage that the coming war would cause.

But for the moment, all was well.

***

###  The end (but not really).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, a happy (ish, i tried) ending. (i cant resist a little tug on the heartstrings im sorry)
> 
> thank you eternally again to each and every one of you who has gone on this journey with me. This is actually my first completed work anywhere near this length so it's been incredible reading all your comments, truly each one fills me with so much joy
> 
> if you've enjoyed, please consider recommending BTM to a fellow marauder's era lover or reading some of my other work(s)! I have a couple ideas floating around right now (keep an eye out for the coming sequel: Under the Stars) but if you have any specific headcannons or tropes you'd love to see play out next time (or if you just want to talk :)), feel free to suggest them in the comments or on my tumblr - anotherfacelessauthor.
> 
> thank you again. may the moon watch over you with kindness


End file.
